■■■■,. -w---- 
 
Glass_ 
 Book. 
 
 
THE THOUSAND AND SECOND 
 NIGHT 
 
 A ROMANTIC COMEDY 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERIC S. ISHAM 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE SOCIAL BUCCANEER," 
 
 "HALF A CHANCE," 
 
 "UNDER THE ROSE." 
 
 THE STROLLERS," "BLACK FRIDAY. 
 
 "THE LADY OF THE MOUNT" 
 
 DETROIT: 
 
 Conway Brief Co., 142-150 Lafayette Boulevard 
 
 1911 
 
si-i 
 
 
 Copyright, 1911 
 
 by 
 
 FREDERIC S. ISHAM, 
 
 Detroit, Mich. 
 
 ©CID 25957 
 
ACT I. The Sub-Court of a Mosque at Damascus. 
 
 ACT II. Few Days Later. Court and Garden of Fatmeh's House. 
 
 ACT III. Several Days Later. The End of a Rocky Pass, Leading to the 
 Desert. 
 
 ACT IV. Several Weeks Later. A Villa in a Little Syrian Town, Overlooking 
 the Mediterranean. 
 
But if the husband give sentence of divorce to her a third time, saying "Thou 
 art free," or "Z divorce you," three times, it is not lawful for him to take her 
 hack again, until she shall have married another husband and been divorced 
 by that second husband. Then may the first husband re-marry her whom he had 
 set from him and no blame shall attach to any of them. 
 
 Koran, chapter II, verse 226 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 DERVISH (a young American who dis- 
 guised goes to Mecca, afterward, an 
 Aboo-Zeydee, or romance-reciter). 
 
 AMAD (an old diamond merchant, Fat- 
 meh's first husband). 
 
 SADI, the Saddler (distant relative of 
 Amad). 
 
 EL SABBAGH, the Dyer (emissary of 
 Amad). 
 
 HIS COMPANION. 
 
 LORD FITZGERALD (an Englishman 
 with ichom the young American has 
 a waper). 
 
 NATIVE SERVANT (of Lord Fitzger- 
 ald). 
 
 DOORKEEPER OF MOSQUE. 
 
 LETTER-WRITER IN MOSQUE 
 COURT. 
 
 CUSTODIAN. 
 
 SWEEPER. 
 
 BEGGAR. 
 
 GUIDE. 
 
 MAN ON MINARET. 
 
 CARETAKER OF FATMEH'S HOUSE. 
 
 FATMEH (formerly young tvife of 
 Amad). 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (her stepmother). 
 
 CARETAKER'S WIFE. 
 
 SERVANT (in last act). 
 
 WOMAN DICTATING LETTER (first 
 act). 
 
 FIRST WOMAN (first act). 
 
 SECOND WOMAN (first act.) 
 
 THIRD WOMAN (first act). 
 
 People going in and, out of mosque, first 
 act; soldiers and people outside 
 second act; Sadi and Amad's men, 
 third act; people outside villa, fourth 
 act. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 The sub-court of a mosque in Damas- 
 cus. At back, on one side to the right, 
 narrow entrance ; doorkeeper ; aged let- 
 ter-writer squatting near at back, be- 
 hind his paraphernalia. Other side of 
 stage, beyond low wall, an imposing 
 mansion. Right of stage is occupied by 
 
 the colonnade beyond ichich is mosque 
 itself with minaret. At back to the left, 
 is a small fountain and, washing place, 
 with recess behind. People pass into 
 court leaving shoes at entrance, and 
 others pass from mosque to entrance, 
 putting on their shoes as they go out. 
 Lord Fitzgerald and guide are discov- 
 ered looking up at mosque near mosque 
 entrance. Fitzgerald wears a monocle 
 and is a man of middle age. 
 
 GUIDE (traditional manner of guides) 
 Yonder sacred edifice is among the 
 most unique and ancient structures of 
 the kind in the world. It represents 
 the best traditions in Arabic art, com- 
 bining dignity and grace in equitable 
 proportions. It— (They exit into mos- 
 que, guide still talking.) 
 
 CUSTODIAN (looking after them) 
 The time is coming when only those 
 
 of the true faith will be allowed in the 
 
 mosque. 
 
 A native woman who has paused be- 
 fore letter-writer near entrance at back, 
 now squats down at his side. 
 
 WOMAN (dictating) 
 Sunlight of my eyes 
 
 WRITER (repeating) 
 — My eyes 
 
 WOMAN 
 My husband will not be home Friday 
 next — 
 
 WRITER 
 Not home — Friday next — (They go 
 on in pantomime.) 
 
 Enter Dervish who leaves his sandals 
 at the door and goes to the pool where 
 he laves himself and postures once or 
 twice. He wears cloak of rags and has 
 sxoarthy beard. 
 
 VOICE ON THE MINARET 
 Allah is most great! There is no 
 deity but Allah. 
 
WOMAN (dictating) 
 Therefore I — I — (hesitates) 
 
 WRITER (glibly) 
 — Long for you, yearn for you! Your 
 eyes have made me dizzy. Your lips 
 are as sugar. 
 
 WOMAN (ecstatically) 
 How did you know I wanted to say 
 that? 
 
 Oh! 
 
 WRITER (cynically) 
 
 VOICE ON MINARET 
 Allah is great! Come to prayer! 
 Come! 
 
 WOMAN (dictating) 
 So come to me — come! — come!! 
 
 DERVISH (looking toward her) 
 For this do women come to prayer. 
 Or (gazing toward three women, half 
 up stage to left) for an almost equally 
 diverting reason. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN (indicating imposing 
 mansion heyond low wall at left) 
 They say he has divorced his young 
 wife? 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 It is, indeed, true, as I have reason 
 to know. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 Light of Life will be put out. It was 
 she who arranged the wedding. 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 May and December! 
 
 THIRD WOMAN 
 But such a splendid match for any 
 young girl. He is the richest man in 
 Damascus. 
 
 SECOND WOMAN (lively tone) 
 And old enough, so that if she had a 
 mind for a lover or two? — 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 True; old husbands are best. The 
 easiest hoodwinked! 
 
 THIRD WOMAN 
 The older the better. A husband im- 
 proves with age. You can't get them 
 too old. Even if they are so old their 
 eyesight is failing, a young and pretty 
 wife (with a laugh) should not com- 
 plain. 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 No, indeed. So long as there are 
 plenty of gallants with good eyes for 
 
 a fine face, or figure. A fool girl (look- 
 ing at mansion) to have put out such 
 as he! 
 
 ONE OP THE CUSTODIANS (ap- 
 proaching) 
 
 "Put out?" Put out whom? Out 
 upon you all! Is it thus you come to 
 worship? 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 We were but speaking of Amad, the 
 rich old diamond merchant, and his 
 young bride whom he has divorced. 
 
 CUSTODIAN (interested) 
 Eh? 
 
 THIRD WOMAN 
 About two weeks ago. I even heard 
 it all from this very spot, when I came 
 to — worship, (accent) 
 
 And I too. His voice floated from 
 his home yonder (indicating mansion). 
 Oh, but he was angry. "I divorce 
 you, I divorce you, I divorce you," he 
 said three times. (Imitating man's 
 angry tones.) 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 Then he has put her aside, indeed! 
 Three times! It is the triple,— the ir- 
 revocable divorce. 
 
 THIRD WOMAN 
 Unless — You know the expedient, if 
 he should change his mind and want 
 her back? 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 But he would never do that. 
 
 CUSTODIAN (wisely) 
 Who shall say "never," when the 
 husband is seventy and the bride, sev- 
 enteen? Age is like dry tinder, youth 
 the match. Once it is applied — Whew! 
 (makes a gesttire) But I have heard 
 that this young bride whom Amad 
 has recently divorced is not of our 
 people — that her mother was Greek? 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 There is some story that her father, 
 too, was an European. I believe the 
 mother was a part of the loot carried 
 away when our soldiers pillaged a cer- 
 tain Greek town. Later, after the 
 mother died, the mission people who 
 are always meddling got hold of the 
 child, to bring her up as a Christian. 
 
 THIRD WOMAN (horrified) 
 A Christian? 
 
SECOND WOMAN 
 Even so. But she, fortunately, was 
 rescued from her evil surroundings by 
 her step-mother, Light of Life, a fol- 
 lower of the true faith. No doubt un- 
 der that worthy woman's pious influ- 
 ence, she has entirely forgotten the 
 pernicious precepts with which the 
 missionary dogs would have contam- 
 inated her young mind. 
 
 CUSTODIAN (piously) 
 Allah grant it! 
 
 SWEEPER OF THE COURT (ap- 
 
 proacfiing icith broom) 
 Stand aside, good people, in the name 
 of the prophet! 
 
 DERVISH (who Jias a moment before 
 approached but not so near as to 
 have overheard any of the fore- 
 going conversation) 
 Are we, then, to give way for dirt^ 
 rubbish ? 
 
 SWEEPER 
 Even the dirt in the mosque court 
 is sacred. Only man is vile. 
 
 DERVISH (dubiously) 
 Hum? 
 
 CUSTODIAN 
 I have heard there is one among us 
 who certainly is that. 
 
 DERVISH 
 What mean you? 
 
 CUSTODIAN 
 A masquerading Christian who has 
 dared go even to Mecca. (Dervish 
 starts) 
 
 FIRST WOMAN (fiercely) 
 He has done that and not been— 
 
 CUSTODIAN 
 Killed? Even so! (The dervish 
 wheels quickly and goes to fountain, 
 where he turns his back) 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 But why?— 
 
 CUSTODIAN 
 Here comes one who can tell. 
 
 Sadi, the saddler, xcho has been 
 among those who have come out of 
 the mosque, joins them. Dervish sees 
 him and exits quickly into recess at 
 back behind pool. 
 
 CUSTODIAN (to Sadi) 
 We were talking of the masquerad- 
 ing Christian. 
 
 SADI 
 
 It is a long tale. We were fellow 
 Pilgrims to Mecca. One moonlight 
 evening I discovered him making 
 drawings — which to a true believer is 
 sacrilege — of one of our holiest places. 
 I asked him what he did; his answer 
 did not satisfy me. Hastily he con- 
 cealed the bits of paper. This aroused 
 my suspicion. I looked for a chance to 
 verify my belief that he was an im- 
 postor, but after making sacrifice, he 
 hurriedly fled from Mecca. I, too, 
 left, journeyed fast, and came up with 
 him. My object was to obtain those 
 drawings so as to make charges 
 against him. But he eluded me again, 
 left the caravan he was with and 
 joined another — for Damascus. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 Where he is now? 
 
 SADI 
 It may be. (Exits at back. Dervish 
 at door of recess watches him go out, 
 then dervish again exits into recess) 
 
 SECOND WOMAN (looking after Sadi) 
 A distant relative of Amad — 
 
 SWEEPER 
 Consume all dogs of Christians, say 
 I! 
 
 CUSTODIAN 
 Allah grant it! 
 
 (Enter Light of Life and Fatmeh at 
 back. The manner of the three women 
 once more becomes light and gossipy. 
 They look at and nudffe one another.) 
 
 SECOND WOMAN (indicating 
 Fatmeh) 
 She, of whom we were speaking! 
 
 THIRD WOMAN 
 The young bride — 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 And her step-mother. (As Light of 
 Life and Fatmeh approach, the three 
 iDomen and others move respectfully 
 aside, for the two new-comers are robed 
 as ladies of quality.) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (to Fatmeh) 
 The disgrace! I am almost ashamed 
 to show myself in this holy place. 
 
 FATMEH (calmly) 
 I do not find it a disgrace to be di- 
 vorced from a man I despise. 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (gasping) 
 Despise! Small wonder he divorced 
 you. But I have arranged for him to 
 
take you back. He is very much in 
 love with you — unworthy that you are! 
 — and has graciously relented. He will 
 again receive you in his home, after 
 certain vexatious formalities, neces- 
 sary to that end, have been complied 
 with! 
 
 FATMEH 
 I am satisfied as it is. 
 
 Enter Amad from back. (He has 
 evil wizened face and lohite beard. He 
 is garbed in rich robes. He crosses to 
 Light of Life. Fatmeh about to exit 
 into mosque, sees him, pauses, then 
 moves carelessly behind pillar, and as 
 if not listening, listens.) 
 
 Well? 
 
 AMAD (anxiously) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (horrified) 
 To remain a divorcee! Obstinate 
 girl! Your ill behaviour has brought 
 us to a shameful pass. This is my re- 
 turn for years of pious training! I, 
 who have never failed to instil in your 
 mind that a wife's duty is love and 
 obedience to her husband. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Love? (hard laugh) Love that old 
 satyr! 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (throwing up hands) 
 To speak thus of one so venerable 
 and worthy! A man to whom all 
 Damascus bends in mingled veneration 
 and regard! 
 
 FATMEH (same tone) 
 All Damascus isn't married to him. 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (tvith pathos) 
 So you repay my years of love and 
 patient guidance! With disobedience, 
 rebellion! Well, Allah will reward 
 me! 
 
 FATMEH (derisively) 
 Allah! You mean Amad! 
 much did he give you? 
 
 How 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 Oh! (controlling herself) Fortu- 
 nately I am your guardian. You have 
 no voice in this matter. The law gives 
 me the right to command. 
 
 FATMEH 
 And you intend? — 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (insinuatingly) 
 For your sake — 
 
 FATMEH 
 Do not mix hypocrisy with — (stops) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (grimly) 
 Say it? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Of what avail? (starts toward mos- 
 que) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (aside) 
 Miserable girl! To impugn motives! 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (effusively) 
 Everything is satisfactory. 
 
 AMAD (quickly) 
 She is willing to be taken back? 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (expansively) 
 She rejoices in the prospect. (Fat- 
 meh shows by her expression anger 
 and contempt.) 
 
 AMAD (suspiciously) 
 She has not been wont to rejoice in 
 my presence. 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 I have talked with her, shown her 
 the error of her ways, and she has re- 
 pented. 
 
 FATMEH (aside) 
 Oh! (shows hatred of Amad) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 Besides, absence makes the heart — 
 
 AMAD (skeptically) 
 Hum? Well, I'll do my part. 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 Have you found the makeshift fel- 
 low we must needs employ? 
 
 AMAD 
 
 Not yet. But it will soon be done. 
 Though (froivning) I like not the 
 method. 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 There is none other. In my day a 
 slave served. Now (re-enter dervish, 
 who takes his place at foimtain) we 
 must find some miserable holy man 
 like (indicating dervish) such a one. 
 
 AMAD (aside) 
 The very man! (Fatmeh, too, looks 
 toward dervish) Though, as I said, I 
 am sorry to introduce an irresponsible 
 person into the matter. 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (lively tone) 
 Not if it restores her once more to 
 your arms! Gives you again the right 
 to caress — 
 
AMAD (bitterly) 
 
 Again? 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 Ah, you ardent husbands! You have 
 no patience with young and inexperi- 
 enced brides. You expect them to wel- 
 come matrimonial kisses with the same 
 avidity they devour sweets, confection- 
 ery or Turkish delight. You should 
 give them time. You should remem- 
 ber how modestly they are brought up. 
 
 AMAD (eagerly) 
 Then she is prepared now to — 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (dignified tone) 
 She is prepared to fulfill all wifely 
 duties. (Fatmeh's hands clench.) 
 
 AMAD (eagerly) 
 Good! I will see about this fellow 
 (looking toivards dervish) tonight. 
 (Starts toward mosque.) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 One moment. (Amad again turns to 
 her. Fatmeh exits quickly into mos- 
 que.) She (significantly ) is in there. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 And if so? (gazes more eagerly at 
 mosque) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (murmuring) 
 The proprieties — 
 
 AMAD 
 
 Why, has she not consented to re- 
 turn to me? 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 True, but meanwhile? — 
 
 AMAD (grumbling) 
 Meanwhile? 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 The neighbors — 
 
 AMAD (ill-humoredly) 
 We must not forget the neighbors! 
 (Amad turns and exits at back.) 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (aside) 
 The old fool! To jeopardize so much 
 by a useless quarrel! 
 
 VOICE ON MINARET 
 Allahu akbar (chant follows) 
 
 {TWO INCHES of SPACE HERE) 
 
 All on stage posture. People come 
 out of mosque, among the last of them. 
 Lord, Fitzgerald arid guide. 
 
 FITZGERALD (to guide) 
 Don't think much of your mosque! 
 They have finer in Cairo. 
 
 GUIDE (apologetically) 
 I am sorry. I regret milord is dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 (Dervish who has seen Fitzgerald, 
 shows interest and approaches him cau- 
 tiously.) 
 
 FITZGERALD (draivling tone) 
 You say all Europeans have left the 
 city? 
 
 GUIDE 
 It is quite true. The few who were 
 here have gone. 
 
 FITZGERALD (drawling tone) 
 They fear an uprising? 
 
 GUIDE 
 Evidently. Your lordship is about 
 the last foreigner remaining in the 
 city. I have heard milord intends to 
 motor across the desert? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Quite true. But I believe we have 
 other sights to see. The house of 
 Annanias, for example. I have always 
 felt a great admiration for the gentle- 
 men. He left such a numerous pro- 
 geny. I should like to make a pilgrim- 
 age to his shrine. (Starts to go.) 
 
 DERVISH (low whisper) 
 Fitzgerald! Lord Fitzgerald! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Eh? (looks around) Thought I 
 heard my name. (One or two more 
 people, among them Fatmeh, who 
 have come out of the mosque, pass near 
 dervish. Fatmeh, as if inadvertently, 
 remains standing near, with her back 
 to dervish. She shows by her attitude 
 she wishes to speak to him. Dervish 
 looks at Fitzgerald but Fatmeh's near 
 presence forces him to remain silent.) 
 
 FITZGERALD (pause) 
 Must have been mistaken, 
 could know me here? 
 
 Who 
 
 GUIDE 
 Who indeed? (Dervish glances hur- 
 riedly at Fatmeh. She does not move, 
 so he does not speak again. Exit Fitz- 
 gerald and guide at back, several peo- 
 ple shoiving aversion as they pass out.) 
 
 FATMEH (aside, trying to catch atten- 
 tion of dervish) 
 It is he they will employ. 
 
10 
 
 DERVISH (noting her, hut without 
 lifting 7iis eyes to the girVs eyes, 
 
 aside) 
 Confound the woman! (returns to 
 place near fountain, aside) Fitzger- 
 ald here! What a mad impulse to have 
 spoken to him! As well I didn't suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 (Fatmeh gazes toioard him. Hesi- 
 tates. Then looks about, seeking to see 
 where Light of Life is. The latter has 
 moved toward the letter-writer. Fat- 
 meh, as if casually, again moves in the 
 direction of the dervish.) 
 
 FATMEH (aside) 
 I must speak to him. I must at- 
 tract his attention. (Aloud^ near der- 
 vish) Be good enough to accept this 
 slight gift, most holy man. Permit me 
 to acquire merit by giving! (She 
 drops purse. In getting it from her 
 dress, she inadvertently disarranges 
 her veil. Dervish does not appear to 
 see purse, but looks at her face.) 
 
 DERVISH (sudden start) 
 How beautiful! (low voice) Where, 
 lady, have I seen you before? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Before? (Disconcerted, she quickly 
 re-adjusts her veil) Nowhere, I am 
 sure. I did not intend — One is not 
 supposed to show one's face. 
 
 One 
 
 DERVISH 
 fair should be seen! 
 
 FATMEH 
 Such words! What a strange der- 
 vish. (A beggar reaches down, gets 
 the purse which the dervish has not 
 seen, and moves quickly away with it.) 
 There! You have lost the purse. 
 
 DERVISH (still regarding her) 
 What matter? 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (near letter-writer) 
 Fatmeh! (looks around, without 
 seeing girl) 
 
 FATMEH (nervously to dervish) 
 I must go. Yet — (people stand be- 
 tween them and Light of Life) 
 
 DERVISH 
 I shall remember — your charity. 
 
 FATMEH (swiftly, eagerly) 
 And later — You will be my friend, if 
 need be? — 
 
 DERVISH 
 I do not understand. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I have no time now — 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (looking toward 
 
 mosque) 
 Where is the girl? Still in the mos- 
 que? 
 
 FATMEH (moving toward her quickly) 
 No — here — 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (regarding her sus- 
 piciously) 
 Come! 
 
 FATMEH (looking toward dervish) 
 I did but stay to breathe an extra 
 prayer. 
 
 (Exit Light of Life and Fatmeh at 
 back. Dervish continues to gaze after 
 them.) 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 Heard you that? Brazen chit! "An 
 extra prayer!" She showed her face! 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 And talked to a man! 
 
 THIRD WOMAN (significantly) 
 Though a man of prayers! 
 (They laugh ironically and exit.) 
 
 CUSTODIAN (roughly, approaching 
 dervish) 
 Here, you! What do you mean by 
 staring after a lady? 
 
 DERVISH (low tone) 
 Who — who is she? 
 
 CUSTODIAN (fanatically) 
 Take shame for the question, rank 
 pretender to piety! 
 
 DERVISH (starts) 
 Pretender! (Then he seizes custo- 
 dian and begins to beat him) You 
 tvould doubt my piety, would you? 
 
 CUSTODIAN (struggling) 
 I recant. You alone are a model of 
 all virtues. I recant! Do not strike 
 so hard. 
 
 DERVISH (still beating him) 
 Slanderer! To question one who has 
 walked seven times around the sacred 
 stone. 
 
 CUSTODIAN 
 Have mercy. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Who has slaughtered at the proper- 
 time the sacred goat! 
 
CUSTODIAN (piteously) 
 I did but jest. 
 
 DERVISH (still beating) 
 Have a care in the future, then, 
 lest— 
 
 CUSTODIAN (managing to escape) 
 I will. Such a strong man must, in- 
 deed, be very holy. (Runs out at back) 
 
 (The stage has now become deserted 
 by all, except the woman dictating the 
 letter, the letter-writer, the doorkeeper 
 and the dervish. The first three have 
 paid no attention to the scene between 
 dervish and custodmn. being accus- 
 tomed to mosque squabbles.) 
 
 THE WOMAN (surveying message the 
 professional writer has prepared 
 
 for her) 
 A jewel of a letter! Now to kiss my 
 husband and tell him to enjoy his 
 journey. (8he exits at back.) 
 
 (The doorkeeper walks over to the 
 dervish. Sunset effect.) 
 
 DOORKEEPER 
 You are going to sleep here, holy 
 one? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 DERVISH (curtly) 
 
 DOORKEEPER (insinuatingly) 
 There's a fee for? — 
 
 DERVISH (sayne tone) 
 I have no money. 
 
 DOORKEEPER (grumbling) 
 Oh, well! (contemptuoHshi) Too bad 
 they allow such vagabonds to sleep 
 in the mosques. (He tcalks toward 
 door at back. The letter-icritcr has 
 gathered up his traps.) A good day's 
 work? (addressing letter-ioriter) 
 
 WRITER 
 Only seventeen intrigues and one 
 business letter. 
 
 DOORKEEPER 
 Commerce is looking up. 
 
 WRITER 
 And intrigues are looking down. 
 
 DOORKEEPER (nodding toicard man- 
 sion) 
 This rich diamond merchant who 
 has divorced his young bride — she, I'll 
 warrant (insinuatingly) was among 
 your most profitable customers, eh? 
 
 WRITER 
 Not she — 
 
 DOORKEEPER (confidentially) 
 Come — come — Between old friends? — 
 
 WRITER 
 There was no Intrigue I know of. 
 
 DOORKEEPER (incredulously) 
 A divorce, without an intrigue? 
 
 WRITER (resentfully) 
 Damascus is not what it used to be. 
 
 DOORKEEPER 
 
 Or she is very discreet! 
 
 WRITER 
 Perhaps she indites her own letters. 
 (viciously) They tell me women are 
 actually beginning to learn to write. 
 
 DOORKEEPER ( dmibtingly ) 
 In that case, Allah help all the hus- 
 bands! 
 
 WRITER 
 Yes; 'tis putting a premium on im- 
 morality. (Exit writer at back) 
 
 DOORKEEPER (tossing a few old 
 shoes outside) 
 A plague take people who leave their 
 old boots behind. Rubbish instead of 
 piasters. (He looks back toward the 
 dervish.) Well, there isn't anything 
 for him to steal. (He goes out to lie 
 down on couch outside of doorivay. Per- 
 haps just his feet can be seen.) 
 
 (Dervish gets up. stretches himself 
 and yawns.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 I'd almost swear I knew those eyes! 
 Heigho! How hungry I am. Oh, for 
 a chop at Brown's, on Broadway, laced 
 with a tankard of old musty, (patise) 
 It's lucky Sadi did not see me. Con- 
 found the fellow! He's becoming a 
 bore. How^ am I to get out of Damas- 
 cus without a piaster? And the city 
 on the verge of an uprising! (Pause) 
 Those people would certainly make 
 short shift of me if they discovered / 
 was the dog of a Christian who, dis- 
 guised, had succeeded in reaching 
 Mecca. (Pause) I wonder who she 
 was? (Amad appears at window of his 
 house, closes lattice and exits. The 
 dervish does not see him.) Perhaps we 
 were acquainted in some other incar- 
 nation. Wish I could hark back to it 
 now. (Ruefully. He lies down.) A 
 chop! My kingdom for a chop! (He 
 
sleeps. Deeper sunset effect, but not 
 dark.) 
 
 (El-Sabbagh, the dyer, and his com- 
 panion appear at the back entrance) 
 
 EL-SABBAGH (to doorkeeper asleep 
 
 tcithout) 
 
 We come to look for a holy man. 
 
 DOORKEEPER 
 What holy man? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 One who may still be here. 
 
 DOORKEEPER 
 Well, enter. But take away your 
 shoes when you go. 
 
 (FA Eabbagh and his Companion 
 enter) 
 
 EL SABBAGH (gazing toward der- 
 vish) 
 There he is. (gratified) He has not 
 gone. 
 
 COMPANION 
 We're in luck. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Perhaps. (They move toward der- 
 vish. El Sabbagh bends over and 
 touches him. Dervish springs to his 
 feet, as ready to defend himself.) 
 
 DERVISH (menacingly) 
 What do you want? (Both visitors, 
 startled, draw back.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 To speak with you. 
 
 DERVISH 
 About what? (Orips weapon be- 
 neath cloak.) 
 
 (The two, apart, speak together, 
 glancing nervously at the dervish.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Think you he seems likely? 
 
 COMPANION 
 He is ragged enough! 
 
 EL SABBAGH (doubtfully) 
 But rather militant. 
 
 DERVISH (aggressively) 
 What's all this mummery about? 
 
 (The two other men look at each 
 other and show timidity.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
 You go. 
 
 COMPANION (to El Sabbagh) 
 No, you! 
 
 EL SABBAGH (approaching dervish) 
 Be good enough to follow us. 
 
 DERVISH (startled, but containing 
 himself) 
 Why? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 That you will know later. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I will know now. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 This is no place. We come as bene- 
 factors. 
 
 DERVISH (secret irony) 
 Benefactors? (He looks at them 
 guardedly.) I'm comfortable where I 
 am. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 What do you fear? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Nothing, (boldly) Only, I'm sleepy. 
 Be oft! 
 
 (El Sabbagh and Companion again 
 speak apart.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 What are we to do? 
 
 COMPANION 
 Find some other holy man? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 That may not be easy tonight. Be- 
 sides, our instructions — 
 
 COMPANION 
 Try again. Be more conciliatory! 
 Soothe him! 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to dervish) 
 We have to apologize most humbly 
 for disturbing your rest, but perhaps, 
 in the end, you will thank us. Deign 
 then to follow us, and for tonight and 
 some days, to become our honored 
 guest. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Guest? (He laughs derisively.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Yes; one who will be well fed, finely 
 clothed, and given a fat purse into the 
 bargain. 
 
13 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 Fed? (He looks at the other earn- 
 estly. Aloud) Who are you? Haroun 
 al Rashid? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 We claim no such distinction. (Aside, 
 to eompanion) Most dervishes — half- 
 witted, you know! 
 
 COMPANION (aside, to El Sabbagh) 
 All the better for our purpose! 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to dervish) 
 We are plain citizens of Damascus. 
 Haroun al Rashid died several cen- 
 turies ago. (Indulgently) But tell me, 
 Oh Holy One, are you hungry? 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 Am I? (Aloud, calmly) Why? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Because I know a little cafe near by, 
 where the proprietor is such a cook! 
 He is especially famous for his succu- 
 lent stews — 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 
 Stews! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 — made of young lamb, garnished 
 with olives, apricots and figs! Never 
 was such a stew. It melts in your 
 mouth. 
 
 DERVISH (sotto voce) 
 Truly, it is the caliph of Bagdad, 
 come to torment me. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (noting the other's in- 
 terest) 
 And then there are his entrees of 
 young larks, served with choice syrups. 
 When one has no appetite, that dish 
 inspires it. When one has — um! (He 
 raises an enraptured fat face) But if 
 you prefer something else than larks 
 or succulent stew, I can especially 
 recommend the chops of this wonderful 
 cook — 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Chops! (recovers himself) Never 
 mind enumerating any more of his 
 dishes. I've no doubt he prepares 
 them well. But, alas, for me, are those 
 delicacies forbidden. (Regretfully.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Not if you go with us! 
 
 DERVISH 
 My pockets are empty. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 IVe pay. 
 
 DERVISH 
 You pay him. How do I pay you? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 We'll talk about that over good 
 things to eat. 
 
 DERVISH (firmly) 
 Better talk about it before I eat 
 them. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
 Here's an honest fellow! 
 
 COMPANION (to El Sabbagh) 
 Truly, we are fortunate. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
 Or someone else is! (significantly) 
 
 COMPANION (to El Sabbagh) 
 Someone else, of course! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 There is a slight service you can 
 perform in return for all we propose 
 doing for you, a very slight one. 
 
 DERVISH 
 What is it? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Nothing much. You're to get mar- 
 ried. 
 
 DERVISH (amazed) 
 Get— what? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Married! That's all. 
 
 Oh! 
 
 DERVISH (satirically) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 You are to get married, and yet — 
 not get married. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Very lucid! Perhaps you will tell 
 me how — I'm to get married and yet 
 not get married? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 It is very simple. You marry, and 
 then you at once unmarry. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Humph! I marry and then, I, at 
 once, unmarry? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 It is easy to do the last. You have 
 only to say "I divorce you," three 
 times. 
 
DERVISH (sotto voce) 
 Divorce made easy! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 It is the law. 
 
 DERVISH 
 The Mohammedan law? Yes! 
 
 EL SABBAGH (surprised) 
 What know we of any other? 
 
 DERVISH (hastily) 
 Of course! (Aside) Damascus vs. 
 Reno. (Aloud) But why am I to get 
 married? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 To meet a little exigency. 
 
 DERVISH (studying the two) 
 And when am I to get married? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 To-morrow! 
 
 DERVISH 
 The prophet forbid! To whom? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 A lady of quality. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Ah, a marriage in high life! Is she 
 old? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 Young. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Beautiful? (almost fiercely) Don't 
 make her beautiful, that is, if I have 
 to unmarry her, at — 
 
 EL SABBAGH AND HIS COMPAN- 
 ION (speaking together) 
 She is beautiful as an houri! 
 
 DERVISH (regarding them.) 
 Both together! And they look like 
 connoisseurs! She must be very beau- 
 tiful. I'm afraid, gentlemen, (briskly) 
 I can't consider your proposition — 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 We note your displeasure, as a holy 
 man; that she is beautiful. But what 
 should it matter? You don't have to 
 see her. 
 
 DERVISH 
 True. I only have to marry her! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 A mere matter of form! You marry, 
 but, as I said, you do not see her. She 
 
 will not annoy, or disturb your holy 
 meditations. You are but a mere fig- 
 ure-head, a pawn on the nuptial chess- 
 board. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Most husbands are. But start at the 
 beginning! Make your story short. I 
 don't promise anything, (aside) Chops! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 We serve Amad Ahl Masr, the af- 
 fluent jeweller whose palace overlooks 
 this place. Now a short time past, 
 Amad took unto himself a wife. Such 
 a gala occasion! There were singers, 
 dancers, feasting and dining. Delicate 
 little kids, young fowl, whole sheep — 
 
 DERVISH (quickly) 
 Omit culinary details! (Aside) My 
 mouth waters. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Never did a wedding open more aus- 
 piciously, or end more disastrously. 
 For, though devoted to her lord, the 
 lady was very young, and— 
 
 DERVISH 
 They clashed. (He shows impati- 
 ence.) 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Unfortunately. She being young and 
 innocent, thoughtlessly said, did or 
 thought something that disturbed the 
 erstwhile beneficent temper of my 
 friend, benefactor and patron — 
 
 COMPANION 
 Our friend, benefactor and patron! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Who, in an inadvertent moment, 
 pronounced thrice the words that di- 
 vorced her. 
 
 DERVISH (curtly) 
 And now he's sorry? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 At the spectacle of her grief. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Oh, the lady didn't want to be di- 
 vorced, then? Exception to the rule! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Her bitter tears melted his tender 
 heart. She has begged to be taken 
 back. 
 
 DERVISH 
 And he has consented? 
 
EL SABBAGH 
 He has. Only as you know, there 
 are difficulties. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes. By the Mohammedan law the 
 lady must marry again and be divorced 
 from husband number two, before hus- 
 band number one, may remarry her. 
 All of which is set forth in the Koran, 
 chapter two, verse 229. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 There will be nothing wanting for 
 your comfort. In the morning you 
 will have honey and curdled cream 
 served by a slave girl. 
 
 DERVISH (satiricalhj) 
 White? 
 
 Black. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Exactly! (to coinpanion) Truly this 
 holy dervish is very learned in the 
 Book. He even knows the number of 
 the verse. 
 
 DERVISH 
 That I learned in the university at 
 Cairo. Also, that when a husband is 
 sorry he has divorced his wife, he looks 
 around for some poor vagabond (indi- 
 cating his ragged cloak) of a holy man, 
 like myself, to act as Mustahall, or 
 husband of convenience. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (briskly) 
 Quite so. The marriage ceremony 
 will be brief. We'll omit the singing 
 girls and the dancers — 
 
 DERVISH (anxiously) 
 But not the roast lambs and rams? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 And after the ceremony we take 
 charge of you. 
 
 COMPANION (meaningly) 
 No doubt of that! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 We don't let you out of our sight. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Oh, I spend my honeymoon with — 
 (looks ruefully at them) 
 
 EL SABBAGH (soothingly) 
 It will only be for a few days. You 
 will lie in the lap of luxury. You will 
 eat and drink all you like and have 
 water pipes to smoke and coffee with 
 ambergris in it. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Certainly a new kind of a honey- 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Yes; the improved article. 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 Ambergris in lieu of the bride! 
 
 DERVISH (ironically) 
 Can't you make her white? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (seriously) 
 Impossible to tamper with nature's 
 
 laws! 
 
 DERVISH 
 And how does my bride spend her 
 honeymoon? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 With her stepmother. 
 
 DERVISH 
 How exhilerating! 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 She will be comforted by the large 
 dowry you are to give her. 
 
 I, give her' 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 That Amad gives her, for you. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Oh! He not only gives me his wife, 
 but a dowry to go with her. Hope it 
 will be a large one, commensurate with 
 my dignity? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (significantly) 
 Light of Life will see to that. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Light of Life? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Your mother-in-law. She is very 
 practical. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Mother-in-law? I am to have a 
 mother-in-law. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (soothingly) 
 Whom you, also, do not see after the 
 ceremony! 
 
 DERVISH (lively tone) 
 There are some advantages in this 
 way of being married. 
 
EL SABBAGH 
 A lot of them! You are really a 
 lucky fellow. All the festivities, with- 
 out any of the after-responsibilities — 
 Mothers-in-law, and all that. 
 
 DERVISH 
 True. I escape a great deal. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (gravely) 
 A real husband's duties are most ser- 
 ious. My wife wept for hours after I 
 took her from her mother's home. 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 Who would blame her? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 You don't take your bride away, so 
 she doesn't weep. That's the advant- 
 age of being a husband, and yet not 
 being one. You don't have to wipe 
 away her tears. Without any attend- 
 ant vexations, you have still the right 
 to say: "You-are-no-longer-my-wife." 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 To one who never has been! (aloud) 
 But suppose, like Amad, I should be 
 sorry for her afterwards? Awful 
 thought! What if she should have 
 learned to love me? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to companion, tap- 
 ping his forehead) 
 You see? (aloud) That is a contin- 
 gency we may dismiss, (smiling) 
 
 DERVISH 
 What if she should weep to come 
 back to me? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (indulgently) 
 Don't let us worry about that. 
 
 DERVISH 
 And what if I, after divorcing, 
 should be led by her tears to regret? — 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 This is getting a little complicated. 
 
 DERVISH 
 And want her back whom I have 
 never had? — 
 
 EL SABBAGH (more confused) 
 Hold on! 
 
 DERVISH 
 And in order to encompass that, 
 should myself appoint a substitute hus- 
 band who, for his part, after divorcing 
 her, might likewise regret — 
 
 EL SABBAGH (helplessly) 
 My head whirls! 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 The point is — To whom would she 
 belong? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (wiping face) 
 Hanged if I know. I mean — Answer 
 
 him (to companion) 
 
 COMPANION 
 We are digressing. You, sir (to der- 
 vish) are proceeding from a false hy- 
 pothesis. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Yes — false hypothesis! (to compan- 
 ion) Go on. 
 
 COMPANION 
 How could you regret divorcing 
 someone you had never seen? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (triumphantly) 
 Yes; how could you? 
 
 COMPANION 
 Wliose tears you had never wiped 
 away? Or whose kisses — 
 
 EL SABBAGH (discreet horror) 
 Ahem ! 
 
 DERVISH (humbly) 
 I was only trying to consider every 
 view-point. 
 
 EL SABBAGH (assuming initiative 
 once more) 
 I know you dervishes are rather 
 weak-witted, but try to concentrate. 
 Don't scatter! Focus your forces! 
 What you are to think of, is, that for 
 awhile you live on the fat of the land. 
 Then after you have earned a purse 
 and fine clothes by divorcing before 
 witnesses, your wife — 
 
 DERVISH (sotto voce) 
 Whom I have spent such a charming 
 honeymoon with — I mean, without — 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 You go away, leaving her free to re- 
 marry our friend, benefactor and pat- 
 ron. What could be better? (rubbing 
 his fat hands.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 What, indeed? If everyone got mar- 
 ried that way, there wouldn't be any 
 unhappy marriages. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Of course not. 
 
 DERVISH (as if seized with a sudden 
 thought) 
 But isn t it rather selfish? (anx- 
 iously) To shove all those after-re- 
 
sponsibilities you spoke of on poor 
 Amad? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (hastily) 
 He won't mind. 
 
 DERVISH (solicitously) 
 But perhaps it would be my duty to 
 accept some of them — such as wiping 
 away her tears — before divorcing the 
 lady? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (precipitately) 
 No, no; you are too generous. 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is Amad who is generous. Look 
 at the dowry he has provided for my 
 bride! Can I forget that? Noble man! 
 I, too, should be magnanimous. How 
 (expansively) could I show my appre- 
 ciation better than by sacrificing my- 
 self and consenting to become a reluc- 
 tant party in a real, old-fashioned 
 honeymoon, instead of yielding to the 
 everything-made-easy, don't-have-to- 
 console-the-bride variety? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (alarmed) 
 It wouldn't do at all. 
 
 COMPANION (horrified) 
 It is very kind of you, but not to be 
 thought of. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I am thinking of Amad. The lady, 
 unfortunately, is young and beautiful — 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Oh, he's used to trouble! 
 
 COMPANION 
 All really married men are. 
 
 DERVISH 
 While only the men who get married 
 the way I am supposed to, are free 
 from it! They have a mother-in-law 
 without having one. They pay the 
 butcher, the baker, and the candle- 
 stick maker, when there aren't any— 
 quite preferable to not paying them 
 when there are. Their wives run up 
 bills, and they don't. They buy hats — 
 I mean, veils — and they don't. Their 
 babies howl, and they don't. They 
 walk the floor with them, and they 
 don't. Perhaps some other fellow 
 makes love to your wife — only he 
 doesn't. He kisses her and he doesn't. 
 Ha, ha! He hugs her and he doesn't. 
 Or if he did, he couldn't. Of if he 
 could, you wouldn't care. Because 
 you're jealous and you're not. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 My head is getting confused again. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Let her have as many lovers as a 
 Roman erilpress, and still your honor 
 is secure. A thousand busy bees sip- 
 ping at your connubial honey, can not 
 make you an injured husband. You 
 are immune. Your domestic infelici- 
 ties are felicities. Your quarrels are 
 sweetest harmonies. In brief, it is only 
 such a marriage that is made in 
 heaven. The other kind — 
 
 EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
 Stop him! 
 
 COMPANION (impressively) 
 To return to our original proposi- 
 tion— 
 
 EL SABBAGH (eagerly) 
 Yes; to return — (to dervish) Con- 
 centrate! Focus! Don't scatter! 
 
 DERVISH 
 How old did you say the lady is? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 Seventeen. 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 About the age of the lady who gave 
 me — I mean, the beggar — the purse. 
 (Siglis. Aloud) And her husband, this 
 Amad — how old is he? 
 
 Am,ad appears at another window of 
 house. No one on the stage sees him. 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 He has reached an age when, ac- 
 cording to the prophet, a man arrives 
 at a full state of wisdom. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Oh, he is, then, in his prime? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 In his prime; yes, his prime. (Amad 
 closes shutter of this icindoxo and 
 exits.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 You are sure the lady wept to be 
 taken back? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 She shed tears like rain. Why do 
 you ask? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Otherwise, I might have compunc- 
 tions. 
 
18 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 You need have none. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I should be obliging both parties in 
 the case? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 Infinitely. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I should be a benefactor? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 A great one. 
 
 DERVISH 
 They would both bless me? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 They would. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Then why should I hesitate? 
 
 EL SABBAGH (persuasively) 
 You don't. (Insinuatingly.) Stews! 
 Chops! 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Eh? (aside) "Needs must — " (aloud) 
 We go first to the cook-shop? 
 
 EL SABBAGH 
 
 Yes. And then?— 
 
 DERVISH 
 To the altar. Lead on. 
 
 He follows El SabbagJi and Com- 
 panion up stage. 
 
 (CURTAIN) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Garden and court of FatmeWs house. 
 At back is barred window overlooking 
 canal. One side the raised place for 
 smoking. Trees in blossom. Fountain. 
 Door at right leading to street. Ent- 
 rance to house, left. Discovered. Fat- 
 meh and caretaker's wife. 
 
 FATMEH (feverishly) 
 Your husband has gone to find him? 
 
 CARETAKER'S WIFE. 
 Yes. 
 
 FATMEH 
 He should be at the mosque before 
 this time. Now that the ceremony — 
 my wedding — is over, he, my new hus- 
 band (mocking irony) should be at the 
 mosque, to pray to become holy enough 
 to see a wife he does not expect to see 
 
 at all. (She laughs a little hysteric- 
 ally.) 
 
 CARETAKER'S WIFE (bewildered 
 
 and alarmed) 
 But why send for him, at all? If 
 Amad, your first husband, should 
 learn! And also that you have come 
 here to — 
 
 Go. 
 
 FATMEH (looking at her) 
 
 The Caretaker's Wife, showing agi- 
 tation, exits. 
 
 FATMEH (suppressed, excitement, 
 ironically) 
 
 My wedding day! A wedding where- 
 in the bride does not see the groom! A 
 ceremony she is not even obliged to 
 attend! Married, and yet not present! 
 What a farce! And yet it is as bind- 
 ing as any Christian ceremony. I am 
 a bride. (She laughs ironically; sits 
 on edge of fountain, chin on hand.) 
 Will he come? And if he does? (She 
 gets up, walks restlessly ; breaks flow- 
 er, crushes it.) Will he do what I 
 wish? I have risked all on a chance. 
 (She stops, looks around. Key is heard 
 turning in door leading to street. Fat- 
 vieh exits abruptly into house.) 
 
 Enter Caretaker and Dervish, by 
 door leading from the street. The Der- 
 vish is now clean-shaven and in gal- 
 lant attire. 
 
 CARETAKER 
 Wait here. 
 
 DERVISH 
 But why have you brought me? 
 
 CARETAKER 
 As I explained, the rent to your 
 cloak — 
 
 DERVISH (laughing) 
 That stampede of camels and don- 
 kies quite upset my post-nuptial pro- 
 cession to the mosque. 
 
 CARETAKER (politely) 
 While you not only tore your cloak, 
 but became separated from your 
 friends. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Friends? Well, they'll have to get 
 on without me. (Aside.) At least, I've 
 carried out half of my contract by 
 getting married. (Aloud) But about 
 this cloak you were good enough to 
 
promise to mend, if I would follow 
 you? — 
 
 CARETAKER 
 One moment. (Vanishes into housf.) 
 
 DERVISH (looking after him) 
 A very polite fellow! (Imitates) "Sir, 
 you have torn your cloak in this stam- 
 pede. If you will follow me, I will 
 see it is repaired." Who but a Mo- 
 hammedan would tender such cour- 
 tesy? (Pause) I wonder if that was 
 his only reason for bringing me here? 
 Well, I'm not sorry to escape that pray- 
 ing business. Fancy petitioning Allah 
 for divine guidance to destow a thou- 
 sand ardent kisses and a million ten- 
 der caresses upon a fair and lovely 
 hymeneal ghost! Better a few days 
 of freedom, and then I'll go back and 
 carry out the rest of the contract by 
 divorcing my wife. (Repeats) "Wife?" 
 Ha! ha! (pause, looking around) No 
 one about. Wonder what place this 
 is? Where can that fellow have gone? 
 Looks as if I had dropped into a lady's 
 garden. (Contemplative manner) 
 Hum! An intrigue? How improper! 
 A newly wedded man to spend his 
 honeymoon with another man's — 
 (looks toicard gate) This is no place 
 for a timorous young bridegroom. Be- 
 sides (sighs) if I go to the mosque 
 court, I may catch another glimpse of 
 the lady of the purse. Shall I ever see 
 her again? (sighs) 
 
 Enter Fatmeh fr07n house. 
 
 DERVISH (joyful, amazed) 
 The lady herself! I was just going 
 to look for you. (He blurts out the 
 icords. She does not seem to hear.) 
 Chance and a torn cloak have, indeed, 
 favored me. 
 
 FATMEH (crossing siciftly to him) 
 Chance? It was not chance. I sent 
 for you. 
 
 DERVISH (surprised) 
 You did? 
 
 FATMEH (impetuously) 
 Yes; I wanted to see you, here, 
 alone, where no one would disturb us. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Quite so! Delighted! (Aside) An 
 intrigue! She, capable of? — Impossi- 
 ble! And yet, I am here. She has sent 
 for me. 
 
 FATMEH (same tone) 
 I had to see you; I couldn't rest 
 until I did. 
 
 DERVISH (aside sadly) 
 So bold! 
 
 FATMEH (passionately) 
 Every fibre of my being has impelled 
 me to this interview. I have been 
 driven to it. I could not resist. 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 How attractive she must have found 
 me! 
 
 FATMEH (eoming closer) 
 When I saw you that day at the 
 mosque, something told me to trust 
 you. To show my favor, I dropped the 
 purse. It was all I had with me but I 
 wanted you to have it. 
 
 DERVISH (shaking his head, aside) 
 Good Lord! Was ever such audac- 
 ity! A moment ago I was hoping to 
 see her. And now — (sighs, draws 
 away a little) 
 
 FATMEH (folloiving as he draws 
 away) 
 
 If you only knew how much this mo- 
 ment means for me? How I have 
 longed for, yet feared it! How you 
 hold my happiness, my very life (im- 
 passioned gesture) in your hands! 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 So young, and yet so experienced in 
 love-making! I would not have be- 
 lieved it. Her eyes had such a half- 
 frightened, modest don't-you-touch-me- 
 look that first time I saw her. (sighs 
 again. Aloud, ivithout emotion) I am 
 flattered, Madam. I suppose you are 
 married? 
 
 FATMEH (surprised) 
 Yes — that is, why do you ask? 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 True; it is but an inconsequential 
 trifle, over here. 
 
 FATMEH (anxiously studying him) 
 You don't seem pleased? 
 
 DERVISH (false ardor) 
 Pleased? Oh, yes, indeed! 
 
 FATMEH (coldly) 
 I don't believe it. 
 
 DERVISH (more false ardor) 
 
 How can I convince you? (Aside) 
 
 She wants me to plunge into the role 
 
 of ardent lover. (Aloud, monotonous, 
 
 meehanical tone) Lady! When flrst I 
 
20 
 
 saw you, it was to become a slave to 
 your charms. 
 
 FATMEH (surprised) 
 What are you saying? 
 
 DERVISH (same mechanical tone) 
 Telling you how much I love you. 
 
 FATMEH (flashing eyes) 
 You think, then, I sent for you, the 
 ragged dervish, to — 
 
 DERVISH (surprised) 
 Didn't you? 
 
 FATMEH (angrily) 
 How dared you infer? — 
 
 DERVISH (lively tone) 
 You don't want me, then, to make 
 love to you? 
 
 FATMEH (decisively) 
 I certainly do not. 
 
 DERVISH (joyfully) 
 So glad! I mean — so sorry. No, I 
 mean, I ought to make love to some- 
 one, because, you see, I'm just married. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Oh? (She regards Mm contemplat- 
 ively.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes; I'm on my honeymoon — all by 
 myself — (aside) Now that she doesn't 
 want me to, I feel just like making 
 love. 
 
 FATMEH (absently) 
 All by yourself? Where is your 
 bride? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Oh, she's spending her honeymoon 
 all by herself, too. Awfully jolly way, 
 don't you know. 
 
 FATMEH 
 What is your bride like? 
 
 DERVISH (nonchalantly) 
 Don't know. 
 
 FATMEH (quickly) 
 You don't take any interest in her, 
 then? You don't even wish to see 
 her? 
 
 DERVISH (real ardor) 
 I am more interested in seeing you. 
 I asked the custodian that day at the 
 mosque who you were? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Why did you do that? 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Why? (shows ardor; then stops; 
 
 aside) No, I mustn't make love. 
 
 (Aloud) Perhaps, I wished to find out 
 
 where you lived, to get another purse. 
 
 Oh! 
 
 FATMEH (studying him) 
 
 DERVISH (apologetically) 
 You have never been half-starving. 
 
 Fatmeh turns; suddenly comes hack. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Shall I tell you what the custodian 
 did not? 
 
 DERVISH 
 You mean, who you are? 
 
 FATMEH 
 It will surprise you. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I am accustomed to shocks. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I am your wife. 
 
 Eh? 
 
 DERVISH (amazed,) 
 What? 
 
 FATMEH (calmly) 
 Your wife! 
 
 DERVISH 
 You! (shows joy; then the irony of 
 the situation occurs to him) Charmed, 
 I am sure, (mournfully) 
 
 FATMEH (icy calm) 
 You don't look it. 
 
 DERVISH (false frivolity) 
 Don't I? I ought to. Now I shan't 
 have to spend my honeymoon alone. 
 
 FATMEH (stiffening) 
 I beg your pardon. 
 
 DERVISH (sudden contrition) 
 I beg yours. This news has rather 
 upset me. You, my wife! (more warm- 
 ly) My wife. 
 
 FATMEH (displeased) 
 Is there any necessity for repeat- 
 ing?— 
 
 DERVISH 
 Perhaps not. What were we saying? 
 Oh, that you sent for me. Why not? 
 
No harm in that! A wife can surely 
 send for — (stops) 
 
 FATMEH 
 My servant had expected to see you 
 at the mosque, while you were pray- 
 ing. He was to say words that were 
 to bring you here. It seems he found 
 another way. 
 
 DERVISH 
 What can I do for you? 
 
 FATMEH 
 What? — (stops. It is not easy to 
 tell him, a stranger.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Whose house is this? 
 
 FATMEH 
 My own. It belonged to my mother. 
 I secretly left my stepmother's to come 
 here, after we (tcith a nervous cateh) 
 were married. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Your stepmother may soon discover 
 your absence. And if she did, would 
 she seek you here? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 She might. 
 
 DERVISH (reprovingly) 
 I'm afraid you've been imprudent. 
 An assignation with your own hus- 
 band! 
 
 FATMEH 
 You mean, I have not been mindful 
 of the risk for youF — 
 
 DERVISH 
 I didn't mean that, but since you 
 speak of it, there is a risk. Mighty 
 serious business, these clandestine af- 
 fairs with one's own wife! Shocking 
 effect on the morals of any community! 
 But why did you want to see me? 
 
 FATMEH (despairingly) 
 There was no one else. It was much 
 to expect, but — 
 
 DERVISH (eoldly) 
 So you dropped the purse? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes, yes. I anticipated asking of 
 you a great favor — 
 
 DERVISH 
 To buy it? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Of course. See! (feverishly) I 
 have brought gold and jewels, gems of 
 
 much value — (holding out her hands) 
 Take them! 
 
 DERVISH 
 One moment! This favor — Is it 
 something your stepmother would ap- 
 prove of? 
 
 FATMEH 
 No. She hates me. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Or Amad, your former husband? 
 
 FATMEH (more fiercely) 
 No! no! (bites her Up) But why do 
 you not take them? (again holding out 
 jewels) If there are not enough, I'll 
 find more. I know you serve him. 
 What did he pay you to marry me? 
 How much did you charge to make me 
 your bride? 
 
 DERVISH (hollow, artificial laugh) 
 
 I married you for — a square meal. 
 (Fatmeh shrinks a little) That's — 
 that's my regular price. 
 
 FATMEH (wide-eyed) 
 You mean that you? — 
 
 DERVISH (frivolously) 
 Make a business of getting married? 
 Oh, yes. It's my profession. First, I 
 marry and then, I divorce — 
 
 FATMEH (quickly) 
 It was about the divorce — 
 
 DERVISH 
 I've ex-wives in every community. 
 Leave a trail of them behind me. 
 
 FATMEH (resentfully) 
 I think you are trying to jest. 
 
 DERVISH 
 On the contrary. I am feeling very 
 serious. What is it you wish? You 
 are fearful of something. You do not 
 trust me. And naturally not. Who 
 am I? You do not know. Yet am I 
 this minute your — husband! (She 
 looks at him with a certain wild defi- 
 ance) If I shouldn't divorce you, you 
 would be helpless to free yourself. 
 (She starts) It is in my power to keep 
 you — to have and to hold — 
 
 FATMEH (eagerly) 
 You would do that? 
 
 DERVISH 
 You fear I would? You have heard 
 of substitute husbands, who do not 
 keep to their bargain. You have won- 
 
22 
 
 dered if I might prove such a one? 
 (Her look chcmges to one of strange in- 
 tentncss) Confess this misgiving was 
 in your mind when you sent for me — 
 that now 1 am married to you, I might 
 refuse to divorce you? (She starts as 
 if to speak.) Wait! Oh, I have been 
 told how these mustahalls, substitute 
 husbands, sometimes make themselves 
 very disagreeable, how they have even 
 fallen in love (she shrinks) for selfish 
 reasons, with those they have married. 
 Not that any substitute husband would 
 need a selfish reason in this instance — 
 (ardently. She shrinks further. He 
 notices and laughs.) You need labor 
 under no apprehension about me. I 
 understand your anxiety, now that a 
 purpose is fulfilled, to make sure you 
 will be rid of an encumbrance, (touch- 
 ing his breast) Believe me, I sympa- 
 thize with that anxiety. Indeed, if you 
 wish for it now, I will do what is to be 
 done at once. And without the jewels! 
 I am an honest mustahall. I refuse to 
 take pay from both parties. I have my 
 business ideals — my sense of profes- 
 sional honor. Call in your servants! 
 
 FATMEH (as if awakening) 
 What are you going to do? 
 
 DERVISH 
 What I should do. Set you free, at 
 once. Divorce — 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 But— 
 
 A low, discreet knocking at gate 
 leading into street is heard. Both turn 
 and listen. 
 
 DERVISH (looking from gate to 
 
 Fatmeh) 
 Someone for you. 
 
 Caretaker comes from house. 
 
 FATMEH (hastily to caretaker) 
 Do not open it. 
 
 Caretaker walks toward, gate. 
 
 CARETAKER (calling out) 
 Who is there? (Voice outside an- 
 swers inaudibly) No; she isn't here. 
 
 VOICE (ivithout, louder) 
 But her stepmother insists — 
 
 CARETAKER 
 We, the caretakers, are here alone. 
 Peace be unto you! 
 
 VOICE (grumbling) 
 And unto you! (Caretaker listens, 
 then crosses to Fatmeh.) 
 
 FATMEH (excitedly) 
 He has gone? 
 
 CARETAKER 
 
 Yes. (enters house) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Your absence has been discovered. 
 (thoughtfully) That I, also, am at 
 large is probably known by this time. 
 Will they look for me here? 
 
 FATMEH (discouraged tone) 
 Perhaps! (sudden feverishness) You 
 must go. They would kill you. But 
 first — I sent for you (swiftly) to ask 
 you 7iot to do what you are expected 
 to do. 
 
 DERVISH (surprised) 
 Not — divorce? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Yes. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Not set you free? 
 
 FATMEH 
 That is it. It can mean little to you. 
 One wife, more or less, especially if she 
 is afar, what will it matter? 
 
 DERVISH (devouring her with his 
 
 gaze) 
 What, indeed? A dozen more or 
 less, a mere bagatelle! — 
 
 FATMEH (pleading passionately) 
 You promise, then? — 
 
 DERVISH (enthusiastically) 
 I — (suddenly stops; change of tone) 
 Hum! This is a great favor. 
 
 FATMEH (anxiously) 
 You think of refusing? I read it in 
 your eyes. 
 
 DERVISH (tentatively) 
 Hum! 
 
 FATMEH (pleading) 
 I do not offer jewels now. I see in 
 your face a great nobility of character. 
 
 DERVISH (pretending reluctance) 
 But to keep you for my wife? That 
 is more than I bargained for. (aside) 
 It is, indeed, (aloud) How do I know — 
 (as if seized by sudden thought) Ha! 
 you may expect me to — aw! — caress 
 you? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 No, no! 
 
23 
 
 DERVISH (disappointed) 
 Or, kiss you? 
 
 F ATM EH 
 Nothing of tlie kind. 
 
 DERVISH (disappointed) 
 You say tliat, but liow can I be sure? 
 You are not unattractive. You may 
 try to work a charm about me. (more 
 enthusiastically) To force me, for ex- 
 ample, (gazing at her hands) to seize 
 your little hands in mine, to press my 
 hungry lips to them, while breathing 
 in your ear some ardent tale of pas- 
 sion — 
 
 FATMEH (indignantly) 
 You wrong me. 
 
 DERVISH (dejected) 
 Do I? 
 
 FATMEH (proudly) 
 I know some artful women spread 
 their meshes for men, but I am not 
 that kind. You can trust me. I will 
 swear, if necessary. 
 
 DERVISH (hastily) 
 No; do not swear. 
 
 FATMEH (kneeling) 
 See! I beg of you — I implore you! 
 Do not cast me off. Keep me for your 
 wife. Promise! 
 
 DERVISH (carried aivay) 
 I promise. You shall continue to be 
 my wife. Mine! — (He goes as if to 
 embrace her, but Fatmeh rises quickly 
 and evades him.) 
 
 FATMEH 
 And now, good-bye. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Eh? What? Oh, of course! (starts 
 as if to go.) 
 
 FATMEH 
 One moment! The gate may be 
 watched even now. I will see. (Exits 
 hastily into house.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Why does she not want to be di- 
 vorced? Unless? — (pause) There is 
 a good chance of my getting killed. 
 If I w'ere, she would be a widow. Does 
 she aspire to that merry role? 
 
 Re-enter Fatmeh hurriedly from 
 house. 
 
 FATMEH 
 The street is watched. I looked 
 through the balcony screen. One of 
 my stepmother's servants stands near 
 the gate. You could not leave without 
 being seen. 
 
 DERVISH (lively tone) 
 Good! I will go at once. 
 
 FATMEH 
 No, no! Perhaps when it is night 
 you may slip out! 
 
 DERVISH (sedulously) 
 But I'm not so apt to be killed, then. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Of course not. I fear I shouldn't 
 have brought you here, (contritely) 
 You will be forced to stay for some 
 time. 
 
 DERVISH (blithely) 
 True. I am your prisoner. 
 
 FATMEH (passing hand across brow) 
 
 My guest. Is it your wish to be 
 
 alone? If so, there's the divan and a 
 water-pipe — 
 
 DERVISH 
 I prefer company — Yours! — 
 
 FATMEH (wearily) 
 You will not find me very entertain- 
 ing. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I find you everything a husband 
 could desire! (Goes toward her ar- 
 dently.) 
 
 FATMEH (hurriedly) 
 I will send the servant to look after 
 your wants, (starts to go) 
 
 DERVISH 
 If you go, I go. (starts toward gate) 
 
 FATMEH (stopping) 
 What do you wish? 
 
 DERVISH (peremptorily) 
 I married a woman, not a tobacco- 
 pipe. Besides (laughing) I came not 
 to repair to a divan, but to get a cloak 
 repaired. 
 
 FATMEH (absently) 
 Let me see it. (Takes up sewing 
 basket from fountain.) 
 
 DERVISH (surprised) 
 You sew? (aside) Think (handing 
 cloak) of a wife knowing how, nowa- 
 days! 
 
24 
 
 FATMEH (abrupt dreaminess) 
 I learned as a child, at a little mis- 
 sion school at Beirut. 
 
 DERVISH (with pronounced start) 
 Beirut! Now I have it! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 What? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Where I've seen you before! 
 
 FATMEH (surprised) 
 At the mosque court, of course. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I mean, way before that. 
 
 FATMEH 
 What are you talking about? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Tell you some other time, (aside) 
 If we ever meet again! (aloud) What 
 is more important now, is for me to 
 know, ivhy you don't want to be legally 
 separated from me? (She bends her 
 face suddenly over the sewing) Of 
 course, if you deem the question an 
 impertinent one? — 
 
 FATMEH (uncertainly) 
 Can't we — can't we just separate as 
 it is? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Certainly. Though, perhaps under 
 the circumstances, I am entitled — 
 
 FATMEH 
 You are right. You are entitled to 
 some explanation, no matter (bro- 
 kenly) how hard it may be for me to — 
 
 DERVISH (contritely) 
 I am a brute. Just tell me it is none 
 of my business. 
 
 FATMEH 
 But it is. I asked you to let me re- 
 main your wife, so that — 
 
 DERVISH (swiftly) 
 That other one, my predecessor, hus- 
 band number one couldn't re-marry 
 you? (Her face changes.) You don't 
 want to become his wife again? 
 
 FATMEH 
 I don't! I won't! 
 
 DERVISH (quickly) 
 You don't care for him any more, 
 then? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Any more? I never did. It is pre- 
 posterous. 
 
 DERVISH 
 But you married? — 
 
 FATMEH (vehemently) 
 He lied. It was a device. Besides, 
 I have never really been his wife. 
 (Dervish gives an exclamation) It is 
 inconceivable, impossible. (dropping 
 the cloak) He is over seventy! 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 Over seventy! (aside) And they told 
 me — What a cheerful liar that El Sab- 
 bagh is! (aloud) But why, did you 
 marry me, at all, and so pave the way 
 for him to re-marry? — 
 
 FATMEH (passionately) 
 It was you or someone else! It was 
 my fate to have for a husband, (deris- 
 ive laughter) some horrible stranger! 
 
 DERVISH (grimly) 
 Don't mind me. 
 
 FATMEH (same tone) 
 A sham, a fraud, a make-believe 
 man! 
 
 DERVISH (asid.e) 
 Make-believe man! Odious word! 
 
 FATMEH 
 I had no voice, no choice. It is not 
 even the girl herself who says "I will" 
 at the wedding. It is the wekeel, or 
 go-between who answers for her. The 
 bride, during the ceremony, may be 
 wringing her hands in her room above. 
 
 DERVISH 
 As you were? — 
 
 FATMEH (passionately) 
 Yes, as I was! 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 How very flattering to me! Some 
 horrible stranger! 
 
 FATMEH (noting his expression) 
 I didn't say anything that displeased 
 you? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Your explanation has been both 
 lucid and truthful, (aside) A make- 
 believe man! 
 
 FATMEH (discerningly) 
 I believe you are displeased! 
 
 DERVISH (picking iip cloak) 
 With your sewing? It couldn't be 
 better. (Without looking at it.) 
 
25 
 
 FATMEH (sedulously) 
 Your silk jacket — that, too, is torn — 
 at the shoulder, (as if divining she has, 
 somehow, hurt his feelings) You will 
 let me mend that for you, also? Please! 
 (icinning accent.) 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 That tone would win anywhere. 
 (kneels; aloud) Behold me at your 
 feet (turns his shoulder toivards her. 
 Fatmeh draws back the silk at the 
 rent, preparing to mend. She suddenly 
 gives a sligJit cry.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Prick yourself? 
 
 FATMEH (staring at rent) 
 Your shoulder? — It is not the same 
 color as — 
 
 Caretaker enters hastily from house. 
 
 DERVISH (seeing caretaker, xcarning- 
 ly to Fatmeh) 
 Hush! (rises quickly. To caretaker) 
 What is it? 
 
 CARETAKER (agitated, to Fatmeh) 
 My mistress? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes. (She looks at him as if not 
 hearing.) 
 
 CARETAKER 
 I am sorry to have to tell you, but 
 Amad, your first husband, is here. 
 
 FATMEH (half-wildly) 
 Here? Where? 
 
 CARETAKER 
 At the side entrance. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Tell him to go away — to go away! 
 
 DERVISH (putting on cloak, to care- 
 taker) 
 He is alone? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 CARETAKER 
 
 DERVISH 
 Then, admit him. 
 
 Caretaker hesitates, looks at Fatmeh, 
 then bows in assent, and exits into 
 house. 
 
 FATMEH (half -incoherently) 
 I don't want to see him — I can't — I 
 won't — 
 
 Enter Amad quickly. He comes to a 
 stop at sight of the girl and the der- 
 vish, and gloivers from one to the 
 other. 
 
 AMAD (to Fatmeh) 
 You here! And with him! Un- 
 veiled! (He starts as if to seize her.) 
 
 DERVISH (intervening) 
 I wouldn't — (pleasantly) 
 
 AMAD (to dervish) 
 You — what? (gasps) 
 
 DERVISH (same tone) 
 Wouldn't if I were you. It isn't 
 really quite proper (smiling) for you 
 to be here, at all. As you remarked 
 just now, my ivife (accenting) is un- 
 veiled, and it is not customary for 
 other men — 
 
 AMAD (staring) 
 Your wife! 
 
 DERVISH (pleasantly) 
 My wife! 
 
 AMAD 
 You are a scoundrel. 
 
 DERVISH (deprecatorily) 
 Oh! 
 
 AMAD 
 You have deceived me. 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 No; it is you who have deceived me. 
 Your men misrepresented the lady's at- 
 titude in this matter. 
 
 AMAD 
 What do you mean? 
 
 DERVISH 
 She has no wish to return to you. 
 
 AMAD (furiously) 
 It's a lie. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 No, no! 
 
 DERVISH (to Fatmeh) 
 I believe a husband's word is law! 
 (to caretaker) Admit him. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I have the lady's word for it. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 She! You were not to see her. It 
 was understood. 
 
26 
 
 DERVISH 
 Your man's misrepresentations re- 
 leased me from that obligation. 
 
 AMAD 
 You are a cheat. Look what I've 
 done for you. 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 To serve your own dishonest pur- 
 pose. 
 
 AMAD (to Fatmeh, sternly) 
 Return to the house where you be- 
 long, at once. 
 
 DERVISH (to Fatmeh, gently) 
 Kindly remain where you are. (to 
 Amad) Again must I warn you not 
 to address my wife. 
 
 AMAD 
 You! Warn! (with a gasp) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes. I stand absolutely on my 
 rights. The law is explicit and gives 
 a man power to protect his wife from 
 the impertinent importunities of an- 
 other man. 
 
 AMAD 
 "Impertinent!" 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 I use the word advisedly. Your 
 position is indefensible, if not crim- 
 inal. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 You talk about criminal! You whom 
 I picked out of the gutter! 
 
 DERVISH 
 As inexact, as inelegant a way of 
 referring to my temporary indigence! 
 
 AMAD (bitterly) 
 It is thus you repay my charity, re- 
 turn my beneficence! 
 
 DERVISH 
 As I told you, your man lied to me. 
 Otherwise, he would not have drawn 
 me into this affair. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 Are you going to carry out your con- 
 tract? 
 
 DERVISH (amiably) 
 I do not feel called upon to do so. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 You mean you will not divorce her? 
 
 DERVISH 
 I would rather be excused. 
 
 AMAD (explosively) 
 Oh, you would! I've heard of your 
 kind before. Blackmailing mustahalls! 
 You think yourself very handsome, no 
 doubt! Handsome enough to en- 
 mesh — (looks at Fatmeh) 
 
 FATMEH (breathlessly) 
 What do you mean? 
 
 AMAD (laughing shrilly) 
 She, of all persons! She, whom I 
 thought — ice! 
 
 FATMEH (looking at him with hatred 
 and contempt) 
 Oh! 
 
 AMAD (brutally) 
 You almost fooled me with your ves- 
 tal manners. You almost made me 
 think you were different from other 
 women — 
 
 DERVISH (to Amad) 
 Here! Confine yourself to me. 
 
 AMAD (sneeringly) 
 You! So it was for this you wished 
 such brave raiment? By the beard of 
 the prophet, your wooing must have 
 been a fiery one! Or the lady — 
 
 DERVISH (more strident voice) 
 Silence! — 
 
 AMAD 
 And now having played the lover, 
 you will play the barterer? Well, let 
 us begin. But I give warning I won't 
 pay much. These stories of my wealth 
 are exaggerations. I'll give half again 
 the amount agreed upon. 
 
 DERVISH (resuming light manner) 
 Not enough. 
 
 AMAD 
 Six hundred pieces. 
 
 No. 
 
 A thousand 
 
 DERVISH 
 AMAD 
 
 FATMEH (bewildered, aside) 
 They are bargaining. Was it for 
 this he admitted him, against my will? 
 Oh, no, and yet — (she meets the der- 
 vish's eye) 
 
 DERVISH (same manner) 
 Not enough! She's worth more. 
 
27 
 
 FATMEH (coioering) 
 Oh! (beginning to he convinced) Are 
 all men, then alike? All! 
 
 AMAD (repeats) 
 One thousand. 
 
 I said, 
 
 DERVISH 
 'no," before. 
 
 AMAD (scolding) 
 That is a good deal of money. Think 
 not to pluck me too far! 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is not enough. Look at her! 
 There's grace! There's charm! And 
 ardor, too, if eyes can speak. See how 
 they flash! 
 
 AMAD (looking) 
 Fifteen hundred. (Fatmeh catches 
 her breath and gazes at dervish xcith 
 haired.) 
 
 DERVISH (smiling) 
 Still too little! 
 
 My honeymoon has just begun. I 
 should be compensated well. You are 
 a great diamond merchant; I am but a 
 poor man. (slightly ivhining tone) 
 Think of my feelings! How difficult 
 it is to give her up! So young! So 
 fair! And on my wedding day! It 
 cannot be. It is too much to ask (ar- 
 dently) unless (change of tone) you 
 pay a high price. (Fatmeh with fas- 
 cinated horror regards ^lim) My bride! 
 —my beautiful bride! (slightly ivhin- 
 ing tone) Shall she so soon become 
 my poor, lost bride? No, no. Go 
 away. Leave us. I could not bear it. 
 (affects grief.) 
 
 AMAD (surveying him) 
 You're a great rascal. But I am 
 weak; I must have her. Two thou- 
 sand, so be it, you scoundrel of a sub- 
 stitute! Never was such a sum paid 
 for wife or slave before. I'll take her 
 back with me. (eagerly) Two thou- 
 sand; it is much, but (muttering) she 
 is fair. Yes; it shall be. (starts to- 
 ward Fatmeh.) 
 
 AMAD (angrily) 
 What in the devil's name is your 
 price? 
 
 DERVISH 
 My price? (He gazes again at girl. 
 She stands very straight noio as she 
 returns his look.) It is a high one. 
 
 AMAD (sneering) 
 No doubt! 
 
 DERVISH 
 Wait! I have not yet accepted. 
 
 AMAD (stopping) 
 Not accepted. Two thousand! In 
 the name of the prophet (amazed) 
 what do you want for her? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Ten times your wealth and then ten 
 times that. 
 
 DERVISH (still regarding her) 
 Is she not worth it? Did sultan ever 
 make a fairer purchase? 
 
 AMAD (catching the infection) 
 I do not underrate her. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 What eyes! What lips! She is 
 straight as an arrow; a gazelle of the 
 desert. 
 
 AMAD (sneering) 
 You should have been an auctioneer 
 of Christian girls, not a mustahall. 
 
 DERVISH (recklessly) 
 One can combine botli occupations. 
 What was the last amount? 
 
 AMAD 
 Fifteen hundred. 
 
 DERVISH 
 We are still a long ways apart. (Fat- 
 meh walks aicay, to far side of stage.) 
 
 AMAD (angrily) 
 You are crazy. 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is my last price. 
 
 AMAD 
 I don't believe it. You jest, but in 
 order to enhance — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Think what you will! (He laughs, 
 his ardent eyes still on Fatmeh, whose 
 face shows an extraordinary change) 
 In these little business transactions, it 
 takes two to make a bargain. You 
 want to buy, but I don't want to sell. 
 The law has made her my property, 
 my (tenderly) goods and chattels! She 
 belongs to me, and, I mean to keep 
 her. 
 
 AMAD (violently) 
 Because you have fallen in love with 
 her, yourself. This is your last word? 
 (with vicious look) 
 
28 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is. 
 
 AMAD (sneeringly to Fatmeh) ■ 
 You appear reconciled? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Was he not your- choice of husband 
 for me? 
 
 DERVISH (to Amad) 
 Yes; you must stand sponsor. 
 
 FATMEH (to Amad) 
 You made me marry him. 
 
 DERViSH (to Aviad) 
 That's right. And she likes your 
 taste in husbands so well, she wishes 
 to keep me. 
 
 one to barter? You thought I — would 
 sell — you. 
 
 FATMEH (incoherently) 
 I know not what I thought, (pause) 
 Who — are you? Your shoulder is 
 white, while your face is not. You 
 are not of these people. You are not a 
 Mohammedan. Why are you dressed 
 like that? Why did you appear first 
 as a dervish? And you have been to 
 Mecca, too. They would kill you for 
 that. For your own sake you must 
 leave Damascus. 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 But they can only kill me once, and 
 Amad is going to attend to that, (re- 
 garding her) To think of their ever 
 having married you to him! 
 
 AMAD (to Fatmeh) 
 I'll tell you what you are! — what I 
 think of you! — 
 
 DERVISH (stepping quickly toward 
 him) 
 Better not! Better go! (change of 
 tone.) 
 
 Amad lifts arm; thinks better of the 
 impulse; assumes manner of icy calm. 
 
 AMAD (to dervish) 
 I raised you from the dirt; my 
 money fed and clothed you, and you 
 have basely betrayed me. The time 
 will come when you will regret the 
 course you have chosen. 
 
 FATMEH (fiercely) 
 My stepmother deceived me; he, 
 also. He, being very old, said he only 
 wanted someone to look after his great 
 house. He had lost his only daughter. 
 Would I take her place? The wedding 
 would be but a formality. I hated my 
 stepmother. I was glad to leave her. 
 I believed him. I would have served 
 him faithfully and well. I would have 
 kept the shopkeepers from cheating 
 him, and I would have nursed him 
 when. ill. But how did he keep his 
 word? At first he treated me as a 
 daughter. Then one day — (stops) 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 The old scoundrel! 
 
 Amad exits into house, to leave hy 
 side entrance. 
 
 FATMEH (crossing hastily to der- 
 vish) 
 Don't let him go. He will bring 
 back men to kill you. 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 You mean, to keep him here? 
 
 FATMEH (with agitation) 
 Yes; until you leave! 
 
 DERVISH (shaking his head) 
 It wouldn't do — in your house. So 
 far we've done nothing illegal that 
 they can hold over you, when I'm 
 gone. 
 
 FATMEH 
 You think only of me. You don't 
 think of yourself. 
 
 DERVISH (laughing) 
 A few moments ago you thought I 
 did. Confess you deemed me a fine 
 
 FATMEH 
 I have always carried a little dag- 
 ger. I was beside myself. I believe I 
 struck him, hurt him! And then he 
 called the witnesses and divorced me. 
 I was glad, and laughed, and laughed. 
 How I laughed! But afterward he was 
 sorry. And I laughed some more. I 
 thought I could stay free! Later I 
 learned this was impossible. But rath- 
 er than marry him now, it is upon my- 
 self I would turn the dagger. 
 
 DERVISH (soothingly) 
 There! there! Don't worry about 
 that, (absently pats her arm) The 
 law allows you only one husband at a 
 time. Bluebeard can't get you now. 
 
 FATMEH (brokenly and gratefully) 
 
 It is so good to have someone to 
 lean against. 
 
 DERVISH (forgetting himself) 
 Then why don't you? (makes as if 
 to support her) 
 
29 
 
 Enter caretaker's wife tcith a lamp 
 ivhich she places on a stand, but does 
 not light it. 
 
 FATMEH (nervously to dervish) 
 It won't be dark for some time. You 
 
 — you must have refreshment of some 
 
 kind before you go. 
 
 DERVISH (lively tone) 
 You mean I must eat? Good! But 
 (sudden dubiousness) has a make-be- 
 lieve man a right to an appetite? Does 
 he possess a stum — I beg your pardon. 
 
 FATMEH (to caretaker's wife ivho has 
 been standing still and regarding 
 
 them both anxiously) 
 Bring my — my husband something 
 
 to eat. (Woman bows her head and 
 
 exits.) 
 
 DERVISH (admiringly) 
 How you could look after a man if 
 you wanted to! Which reminds me to 
 look after you, when I'm gone. (Takes 
 from pocket in cloak a bit of paper and 
 a pencil and writes rapidly.) In case 
 Amad tries to cut any capers, take that 
 to Lord Fitzgerald. Friend of mine! 
 He was in Damascus a few days ago. 
 Not hard to find him. He'll put the 
 whole force of the British diplomatic 
 service back of you, if necessary. 
 
 FATMEH (mechanically taking paper) 
 You should think of your own dan- 
 ger, not — 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 Would you deny me a husband's right 
 to protect his wife? (Fatmeh shows 
 emotion.) 
 
 FATMEH 
 You, too, are English? 
 
 DERVISH 
 No, an American. Had a little wager 
 in New York with Lord Fitzgerald. 
 Several Englishmen have succeeded in 
 reaching Mecca. He said no American 
 could do it. So I had to. 
 
 FATMEH (irrelevantly) 
 I knew an American boy once. 
 
 DERVISH (interested) 
 Did you? In the old mission town, I 
 suppose? 
 
 Woman brings in fruit, cakes, and 
 silver pitcher of wine which she sets 
 on table. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes. 
 
 DERVISH (eating) 
 What became of him? 
 
 FATMEH (pouring wine) 
 I don't know. 
 
 DERVISH 
 You didn't care? 
 
 FATMEH 
 I cared very much. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Why? 
 
 FATMEH 
 He was a very nice boy and we were 
 playmates, until — 
 
 DERVISH (stopping eating) 
 He went away with his father who 
 had been United States consul gen- 
 eral there for many years. They left 
 on a ship that carried boxes of oranges. 
 One of the boxes broke and the boy 
 had great sport pelting the boatmen 
 below with oranges. His father, the 
 consul general, later had to pay for 
 those oranges. I think the boy got a 
 hiding. No doubt he deserved one. 
 
 FATMEH (enrapt) 
 You! The little boy! ( wonderingly ) 
 You remembered me? 
 
 DERVISH 
 It was your eyes. I puzzled over 
 them ever since you threw me the 
 purse. Remember how we used to 
 make mud pies? Plenty of mud in 
 mission towns! Now (swallowing) 
 you give me real cakes! You were a 
 wild dark-haired little thing. You had 
 fat legs and red stockings. 
 
 FATMEH (dreamily) 
 And you remembered all 
 things? 
 
 these 
 
 DERVISH (lighting cigarette) 
 Why, we used to play at getting mar- 
 ried even then. Ha! ha! How history 
 repeats itself. First you were my lit- 
 tle sweetheart, then my wife. All in 
 fun, of course; kind of like noio — all 
 pretend! If I remember rightly, I 
 even used to impress a chaste and per- 
 functory salute upon your sunburned 
 and sometimes slightly smudgy cheek. 
 
 FATMEH (dreamily) 
 Did you? 
 
 DERVISH 
 To which you, in a spirit of wifely 
 obedience would as chastely and per- 
 
30 
 
 functorily respond! We had, too, our 
 ups and downs, our little quarrels. 
 Once you hit me with a stick — you 
 didn't have a dagger then. It was a 
 jolly good crack, (rubbing his head.) 
 
 FATMEH (low voice) 
 Don't! That was so long ago! 
 
 DERVISH 
 But it's just as clear! I used to 
 look forward to seeing the tangled 
 curls and the flashing red stockings. 
 I can see them now, my little wife of 
 long ago! (Fatnieh shoivs undue emo- 
 tion.) 
 
 DERVISH (surprised) 
 Why — what's the matter? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Nothing — nothing. I am fooUsh — 
 that is all. (turns) 
 
 ous for one who will soon cease to be 
 a gay and happy bridegroom. 
 
 FATMEH (mechanically) 
 1 will speak to the caretaker. 
 
 DERVISH 
 An old suit of his would do, or — 
 The better the disguise — You under- 
 stand? 
 
 FATMEH (sudden feverishness) 
 Yes, yes! They must not know you. 
 Wait! (exits into house) 
 
 DERVISH (sighs) 
 To think of her being the little mis- 
 sion girl! (He looks toioard window 
 at back, walks to it. tries bars.) Not 
 very hard to remove those bars! The 
 masonry seems old. (He looks out to- 
 ioard distance tchere is seen a slight 
 glow.) What are they up to, off there? 
 By George! — I believe — 
 
 During this scene, the stage has been 
 growing slightly darker. The woman 
 now comes in and silently lights lamp 
 on the brass table. The significance of 
 the action is not lost on the dervish. 
 
 Enter Fatnieh from house. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I have sent out the caretaker, 
 will soon return. 
 
 He 
 
 DERVISH (throwing away cigarette) 
 It is growing darker. 
 
 FATMEH (who has regained in a 
 measure her composure, nervously) 
 Won't — won't you smoke another? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Thanks — no. (He pushes back chair 
 and gets up. Change of tone.) It gets 
 dark fast, once it starts. 
 
 FATMEH (motionless as an odalisque) 
 Very fast. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Any other way of leaving this house 
 than by the front, or side entrance? 
 
 DERVISH (conventionally) 
 And I'll soon be off. Though (light- 
 ly) if we were to play at heroics as 
 well as marriage, I ought properly to 
 carry you off. 
 
 FATMEH (starting) 
 But you couldn't do that. It would 
 be impossible. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Quite! And if it were possible, you 
 wouldn't consent, of course — 
 
 Flourish of trumpets comes from the 
 street. 
 
 FATMEH (starting back) 
 What is that? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 DERVISH (listening) 
 Soldiers! 
 
 DERVISH (indicating barred window 
 at back) 
 That window? — 
 
 FATMEH (dull tone) 
 It overlooks the canal. But the 
 water is swift and deep. You could 
 not go that way. 
 
 Martial tread and, sound of horses 
 are heard. 
 
 FATMEH (anxiously) 
 But why? 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 Perhaps Amad has sent the army. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Can you get me another suit of 
 clothes? These are rather conspicu- 
 
 VOICES IN THE STREET 
 Down with all Christians! Intrigu- 
 ing dogs! 
 
31 
 
 FATMEH (apprehensively) 
 You hear? What does it mean? A 
 general uprising? 
 
 DERVISH 
 I've heard mutterings for some time 
 in the bazaars. 
 
 DERVISH (starting) 
 One moment. I'm afraid there's 
 slight obstacle. 
 
 VOICES (receding) 
 Down with all Christians! 
 them! 
 
 Burn 
 
 FATMEH (crossing to window lohere 
 glow has grown brighter) 
 See! Flames! Already they have 
 fired the Christian quarter. It will be 
 the way it was once before. Can I 
 ever forget? The streets will run red. 
 And all ways out of the city will be 
 guarded. Even a disguise will not 
 serve. You (crossing to the dervish) 
 can not get out. It would be certain 
 death for you to attempt to leave. 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 Perhaps it is not so bad as that. Be- 
 sides, what else can I do? 
 
 FATMEH 
 You can stay here to-night. I would 
 not have you slain. 
 
 DERVISH 
 You would care? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Care? Yes. (He gives an exclama- 
 tion.) I mean, I would not have you 
 lose your life for — on my account! (It 
 is now quite dark, the stage lighted 
 with lamps.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 But the proprieties? — (smiling) 
 What would the world say? 
 
 FATMEH (laughing nervously) 
 Am — am I not your wife? 
 
 DERVISH (starting) 
 So you are. I was forgetting that. 
 There couldn't be anything improper. 
 In fact, the world would commend a 
 husband who stays at home nights. 
 
 FATMEH (coming closer) 
 Then you won't go? 
 
 DERVISH (absently looking around, 
 aside) 
 With one's own wife! — No chance 
 for gossip! — 
 
 FATMEH (going) 
 I will have the woman make prep- 
 arations. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Obstacle' 
 
 DERVISH 
 Amad! He will come back, and 
 others with him. If I had a weapon 
 of some kind? — But I haven't even 
 a popgun or a pea-shooter. And if I 
 had, it would hardly do to turn this 
 house where I have been so charm- 
 ingly entertained, into a block-house. 
 
 FATMEH (dazed) 
 True. Amad will come back. He 
 will kill you. I have thought only of 
 myself. Your blood will be on my 
 head, unless? — (suddenly) I release 
 you from your promise! — let you carry 
 out your compact with him — 
 
 DERVISH (amazed) 
 You mean divorce you so that he? — 
 
 FATMEH (helplessly) 
 What else remains? 
 
 DERVISH (sternly) 
 You would marry him? 
 
 FATMEH 
 I didn't say that. There's a way if 
 the worst comes to the worst! (She 
 puts her hand in the bosom of her 
 dress where is concealed dagger.) You 
 will divorce me, won't you? 
 
 Dervish looks at her, then quietly 
 walks over to the window at back. He 
 pulls at one of the bars.. It comes out. 
 Then he pries at one of the other bars. 
 Fatmeh gloomily watches him. Enter 
 caretaker with bundle. 
 
 CARETAKER (to Fatmeh) 
 I found the place. 
 
 FATMEH (dully) 
 Did you? 
 
 CARETAKER 
 But I didn't go in, fearing to be seen. 
 I spoke to a lad. He delivered the 
 message. Afterward, the Jew came 
 out. I stood near the gate. As he 
 passed, he gave it (indicating bundle) 
 to me. 
 
 FATMEH 
 And Amad? 
 
 CARETAKER 
 He has not returned. The city is 
 given over to rioting. I came and 
 
32 
 
 went quickly and did not leave the 
 door unfastened you may believe. 
 After I slipped in, someone tried it. 
 
 FATMEH (gloomily) 
 They will do more than that pres- 
 ently. What is to be done? 
 
 CARETAKER (looking at dervish, 
 
 working at back) 
 Let them have him. It is his life 
 or — 
 
 FATMEH 
 You advise that? 
 
 CARETAKER (doggedly) 
 I care only for you. I served your 
 mother. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Let no one into the house. 
 
 CARETAKER 
 Even if they start to break down 
 the doors? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Even then! 
 
 CARETAKER 
 My mistress — this is foolish. This 
 man (looking at dervish resentfully) 
 is but a stranger. 
 
 FATMEH 
 You may leave the bundle. 
 
 He starts to speak, bows, puts down 
 bundle and exits into house. 
 
 DERVISH (coming to her) 
 You have the clothes — an old suit of 
 your servant's? 
 
 FATMEH (dully) 
 Better than that. You will see. 
 Though I fear they will not avail. 
 
 DERVISH (lively tone) 
 I should change at once. Which 
 room ? — 
 
 FATMEH (same tone) 
 I will show you — (starts to go to- 
 ward house) 
 
 Banging is heard at the side door 
 inside of house. 
 
 FATMEH (startled) 
 They have come, (louder noise) 
 
 DERVISH (looking at bundle and 
 then at window) 
 I fear there'll not be time — I'll — 
 (swings bundle over shoulder) Can 
 
 change later, in some dark place. 
 Good-bye! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Wait! They call the canal the 
 "black death" (fearfully) It is swirl- 
 ing, terrible, flows whither? I must 
 not let you — 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 We've gone all over that, (looks at 
 her) We've had a jolly sort of honey- 
 moon, haven't we? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Have we? (renewed racket) 
 
 DERVISH 
 That is for a pretend one! If a pre- 
 tend one is so exciting, I wonder what 
 a real one would be like? 
 
 FATMEH (distracted) 
 What are you saying? 
 
 DERVISH 
 That wekeel who sang your praises 
 to me before the wedding ceremony 
 was a fool. No wekeel could do jus- 
 tice to my bride. "Eyes like the night" 
 — The night may be beautiful, but it 
 has no such glamor as your beauty. 
 
 FATMEH (same tone) 
 You must not say such things now — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Why not? It's only pretend love- 
 making, (laughs suddenly, boldly, 
 recklessly) A kiss! Surely a man 
 can give his wife a kiss in parting. 
 (He reaches out, kisses her. 8he seems 
 half-inclined to return his caress. Sud- 
 denly there is a crash outside. He 
 puts her quickly from her and rushes 
 toward the window.) 
 
 Enter Amad and others. 
 
 QUICK CURTAIN. 
 
 SECOND CURTAIN 
 
 Amad and others stand, staring at 
 the loindow. Fatmeh is not seen on 
 the stage. 
 
 CARETAKER (staring out of window) 
 Oh, my poor mistress! 
 
 AMAD (angrily, to all) 
 Why did you not stop her? 
 
 VOICES 
 It was too late. 
 
33 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE (to AmadJ 
 You should never have divorced her. 
 You have ruined all. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Because you feared to take the short 
 way to Lebanon, and safety? 
 
 CARETAKER (looking out of window) 
 See! He has seized her. He is with 
 her. He is very strong. 
 
 CARETAKER'S WIFE (looking out) 
 Now they disappear beneath a 
 house — 
 
 LIGHT OF LIFE 
 
 Hasten out! They may 
 drowning and — 
 
 escape 
 
 AMAD 
 Find them! They must not be suf- 
 fered to leave Damascus! 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 The edge of a rocky pass, facing the 
 desert. Right of the stage shows rocks 
 and descending path. Left of the stage 
 at back shows another spur of rock 
 coming doion. At back, desert effect. 
 Branches of palm seen at right. The 
 dervish dressed as an old Aboo Zeydee, 
 or romance-reciter, with ivhite beard, 
 is seen descending as the curtain goes 
 up. He is followed by Fatmeh, who 
 wears the garb of a reciter's pupil and 
 accompanist; that is, a young boy. She 
 carries kanoon, or kind of zither. Her 
 trim cloak comes but to her knees. 
 She wears a jaunty turban. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Here we may rest. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I can well do that. (She puts down 
 musical instrument.) 
 
 Tired? 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 FATMEH (wearily) 
 How far have we come? 
 
 DERVISH 
 A long ways from Damascus. Only 
 the desert separates us from the sea. 
 
 Only? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is the way they would look for 
 us — straight west. 
 
 FATMEH 
 And we have gone south? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes. But rest now. It has been a 
 hard life for you. A tale and song 
 for a crust of black bread! 
 
 FATMEH 
 It was not the weariness. I have 
 ever feared people would know — that — 
 
 DERVISH (laughing) 
 That they would recognize you for 
 what you are! Do not fear. You make 
 a fine-looking boy, a little effeminate, 
 perhaps (eyeing her critically) but 
 that will pass in this country. It is 
 climatic. Lucky you thought of those 
 Jewish players and dancers, near your 
 house, and sent the caretaker for these 
 togs. (He removes beards) Although 
 I did not expect you to accompany me! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 It was the sight of his face — Amad's! 
 When I saw him, I knew not what I 
 did. The next moment I found myself 
 in the canal with you. Then we were 
 swept on! — on! — in darkness — I 
 thought we were lost. And afterward 
 through the riotous city! — How we 
 ever got through the gate I do not 
 know. I trembled when the guard 
 spoke to us and you answered some- 
 thing about an engagement in the 
 country to sing and recite at a wed- 
 ding feast. 
 
 DERVISH (reassuringly) 
 All's well that ends well. 
 
 FATMEH 
 But it hasn't ended yet and I've 
 only made it harder for you. I have 
 held you back. Once I gave way alto- 
 gether. And then, you carried me — a 
 little ways — 
 
 DERVISH (tentatively) 
 I didn't mind that. But shall we try 
 that song together again; rehearse for 
 the morrow and any caravans we may 
 meet? 
 
 DERVISH 
 We came this way, the longer, for 
 a purpose. 
 
 FATMEH 
 You mean the love song that occurs 
 in your tale of the Emir? 
 
34 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Yes. 
 
 F ATM EH 
 Did I not play and sing it correctly? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Correctly, but capriciously. Not with 
 the right feeling! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Oh! 
 
 DERVISH (manner of stage manager) 
 Look at the text! ^'His eyes have 
 over-thrown me." So says the hero- 
 ine. Imagine yourself in her place. 
 
 FATMEH 
 How shall I play it? (hands him 
 kanoon) 
 
 DERVISH (protesting) 
 But it is not I who am "overthrown." 
 
 FATMEH (gravely) 
 Of course. You are not "over- 
 thrown." 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is you who must feel it. (severely) 
 The trouble is you have never really 
 felt yourself "over-thrown"! You 
 haven't ever been in love. 
 
 FATMEH (humbly) 
 I am sorry. Perhaps (ivith much hu- 
 mility) you wish you had a different 
 pupil? 
 
 DERVISH 
 I don't say that. Never had ro- 
 mance-reciter a better accompanist! 
 And as for acting you do very well. 
 For example, yesterday, when you 
 donned the gay side-locks of a debon- 
 naire Hebrew lad! — 
 
 FATMEH 
 It is like singing and dancing on a 
 volcano. 
 
 DERVISH (sedulously) 
 You are not so high-spirited as 
 usual? 
 
 FATMEH (rising ahruptly) 
 I am restless, (change of manner) 
 All day I have felt they were coming — 
 coming closer — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Imagination! 
 
 FATMEH (looking off, up pass) 
 See! (startled) 
 
 DERVISH (looking) 
 Camels and men! 
 
 FATMEH (feverishly) 
 Let us go. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Wait. 
 
 FATMEH 
 We must hurry on. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Without seeing who they are? 
 
 FATMEH 
 They come from Damascus, I know. 
 
 DERVISH 
 You can not know that. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I fear it. (In a revulsion of feeling) 
 Oh, we have been too — too happy. 
 
 DERVISH (quickly) 
 You have been that? (She does not 
 answer.) 
 
 FATMEH (throwing out her arms) 
 I have lived. I have breathed. I 
 have slept beneath the stars. I have 
 loved them. I have been undisturbed 
 by hateful people, by mean ones. I 
 have been free. I have been I. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Then you did not hate me? I feared, 
 after that night at the window — before 
 leaving you, as I thought, forever — 
 that you would hate me, for having 
 dared to — 
 
 FATMEH (as if not hearing) 
 And now, to be taken back — to pris- 
 on. Come! (feverishly to dervish) I 
 am not tired. I could even run. 
 
 DERVISH (who has been studying dis- 
 tant camels and men) 
 Where shall we go? The desert? It 
 is open. 
 
 FATMEH 
 There are sand-hills. We can hide. 
 
 DERVISH 
 And die. Our water bottles are not 
 yet filled. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Better die than — 
 
 DERVISH 
 I do not want you to die yet. 
 
35 
 
 FATMEH (looking again towards cam- 
 els and men) 
 They are nearer — much nearer. And 
 now I can make out their faces. I can 
 see — (stops) Yes, it is Sadi, the sad- 
 dler — (alarmed) 
 
 DERVISH (coolly) 
 So I perceive. 
 
 FATMEH 
 He is related to him. Amad and the 
 others will come, too — later — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Perhaps. But Amad, at any rate, is 
 not with this band, (looking more 
 closely) 
 
 FATMEH 
 But the saddler? He hates you. 
 Amad would reward him for your 
 death. While as for me, he would take 
 me back to — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Has Sadi ever seen your face? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Mohammedan husbands do not dis- 
 play their wives, unveiled, even to their 
 masculine relatives. 
 
 DERVISH (quietly) 
 Then what have we to fear? 
 
 FATMEH 
 You mean, we must wait here and 
 meet them? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes. You fear? You have shown 
 courage enough on other occasions. 
 
 FATMEH (dismayed) 
 But to appear like this! It was dif- 
 ferent before strangers. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Think of him as one. 
 
 FATMEH (loio tone) 
 I can't. 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 She is unstrung. How can I re- 
 awaken her courage? (His expression 
 changes. He steps toward her sternly) 
 You can't meet them like that. Do you 
 want to endanger my safety? 
 
 DERVISH (same tone) 
 Do you think I shall allow myself 
 to be sacrified because of your timor- 
 ous shrinkings? 
 
 Oh! 
 
 FATMEH (straightening) 
 
 DERVISH (sternly) 
 I think a little of my life if you 
 don't of yours. 
 
 FATMEH (different tone) 
 Do not fear. I won't endanger — 
 your life! 
 
 DERVISH (mock humility) 
 I am sorry to have to speak thus — 
 
 FATMEH (haughtily) 
 You will not have occasion to do so 
 
 again. 
 
 DERVISH (aside) 
 Good. (He adjusts his reciter's garb 
 and assumes again the venerable 
 beard.) 
 
 Enter Sadi down pass. He calls back 
 to his men. 
 
 SADI 
 
 Water the camels well at the pool, 
 back there. (He comes down) Whom 
 have we here? (The girl looks at him 
 tvith reckless indifference, even a 
 proud curl of the lip.) 
 
 DERVISH (coming forward with 
 stooped figure and speaking in an 
 
 old voice) 
 A tale, worthy, sir! Will you not 
 pause to listen to a tale? (Sadi's men 
 begin to gather about on the rocks.) 
 I have a fine and varied assortment. 
 
 SADI 
 A romance-reciter and his pupil! 
 (looks fixedly at Fatmeh) 
 
 DERVISH (ivheedling tone) 
 While your camels drink, will you 
 not suffer yourselves to be entertained 
 by us? Nothing so enlivens the monot- 
 ony of a traveler's lot as a good story. 
 And you should hear my boy's voice? 
 As sweet as a woman's! 
 
 FATMEH (recklessly) 
 So I've often been told. 
 
 SADI (to dervish gruffly) 
 The evil one take you and 
 tales! Are we children? 
 
 your 
 
 Yours?- 
 
 FATMEH (starting) 
 
 DERVISH 
 But my stories are as none others. 
 No other aboo has so many. All the 
 
36 
 
 romances of the Sultan Ez Zahir are 
 in my repertory — 
 
 FATMEH (throwing back her head) 
 Including the one of the stolen 
 bride! 
 
 SADI 
 Silence! (to dervish) That's a very 
 forward boy of yours. 
 
 FATMEH (a little defiantly) 
 Even a slave-boy may speak. 
 
 DERVISH (to Fatmeh) 
 Silence! (to 8adi) I trust you will 
 overlook — 
 
 SADI (abruptly) 
 We are searching for two people. 
 Perhaps you can give us information. 
 
 DERVISH (politely) 
 We'll do our best, worthy sir. 
 
 SADI 
 
 One is a young man and the other a 
 girl. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Indeed? And what are they like? 
 
 SADI 
 The girl is slender and shapely. Her 
 garb should be very rich. The young 
 man was, also, handsomely dressed — 
 in garments he stole. 
 
 DERVISH 
 And you want him, because he stole 
 them? 
 
 SADI (grimly) 
 He stole more than that. He stole 
 the young maiden from one of our 
 richest merchants — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Can such things be! May Allah 
 smite those guilty of such atrocity! 
 May he restore the lost treasure to its 
 rightful owner! 
 
 SADI 
 A good prayer! But we'll find them 
 yet. There's a large reward offered. 
 It will be to your advantage to give us 
 information. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Would that I could. The maiden, 
 you say, is slender and shapely. And 
 her eyes — 
 
 SADI 
 About the color of your boy's. 
 
 FATMEH (smiling) 
 I've been told I have fine eyes. 
 
 DERVISH (hastily) 
 Conceited young rascal! (to Sadi) 
 Hum! All women hereabouts have 
 eyes of about that hue. No; we have 
 not seen such a pair. 
 
 SADI (disappointed) 
 Think well. 
 
 DERVISH 
 One would surely notice particularly 
 those two, if one met them. 
 
 That 
 
 SADI (grumbling) 
 true. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Perhaps they have not come this 
 way. 
 
 SADI 
 
 They must have. We have learned 
 they did not take the road direct to 
 Lebanon. So they selected this route. 
 That is conclusive. Also, they would 
 have to come over this pass. They 
 must be hiding somewhere near. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Then you can not fail to capture 
 them. I hope you will treat the scurvy 
 fellow as he deserves. 
 
 SADI (cruel smile) 
 We have planned that. Desert jus- 
 tice! 
 
 FATMEH (showing for the first time, 
 slight trepidation) 
 What — would you do with him? 
 
 SADI 
 There's only one punishment for 
 such as he — to bury him in the sand, 
 up to the neck and' (laughing) leave 
 the rest to the birds! 
 
 FATMEH (showing horror in spite of 
 herself) 
 But that would be — 
 
 DERVISH (hurriedly) 
 A just decree! May the Compassion- 
 ate One so order it! So shall run my 
 prayers! Allah el Allah! (aside) And 
 you, boy? Pray! 
 
 FATMEH (mechanically) 
 Allah el Allah! May the Compas- 
 sionate One — (bites her lips) 
 
 SADI (watching them, grumbling) 
 Prayers are all very well, but it is 
 deeds that count. 
 
37 
 
 DERVISH 
 Prayers may even lead to holy wars 
 — the very best of deeds? But how 
 comes it, this rich merchant is not 
 here, with you, to aid in the search? 
 
 SADI 
 He follows. We rode on but a little 
 ahead. 
 
 only way, to appeal to your pride, to 
 hurt you — yes, to hurt you — to spur 
 you to do something very hard, not for 
 my sake, but for yours — yours, dear! 
 (more passionately) I have never told 
 you — I have managed to stifle the sec- 
 ret these many hours we have been 
 together, but I can do so no longer. 
 (seizes her in ?iis arms) I love — love — 
 
 DERVISH 
 He is near, then? 
 
 SADI 
 
 Not far. (Fatmeh's fingers strike a 
 sharp note from one of the strings. He 
 looks at her ivith sudden anger.) 
 
 DERVISH (to Fatmeh sharply) 
 Put away the instrument. (S?ie lays 
 it doicnj 
 
 SADI 
 A forward pupil, that of yours, as I 
 said before. 
 
 DERVISH 
 He means no impertinence. He is 
 but young. I am training him. 
 
 Sadi turns toivard path up rocky 
 pass. 
 
 DERVISH 
 You ride on at once, worthy sir? 
 
 SADI 
 Soon, (to men) Come, get the camels 
 ready again. (They exit. He follows 
 and exits.) 
 
 DERVISH (gayly) 
 You see? It couldn't have turned 
 out better. (She doesn't answer.) You 
 overacted a little, but on the whole, 
 you did splendidly. 
 
 FATMEH (coldly) 
 Thank you! 
 
 DERVISH (noting her manner) 
 I had to say that, what I did, about 
 your not appearing afraid — 
 
 FATMEH 
 Your words were quite true. I am 
 most pleased I didn't jeopardize your 
 safety. 
 
 DERVISH (regretfully) 
 You don't forgive me. 
 
 FATMEH (proudly) 
 Forgive? Do I riot owe you every- 
 thing? You did well to remind me. 
 
 DERVISH (earnestly) 
 Fatmeh, can you not see I was not 
 thinking of myself, that it was the 
 
 FATMEH (trying to release herself) 
 No, no; you but jest, as you did at 
 the casement before the canal, when 
 with laughter on your lips, you seized 
 me in your arms and kissed me as men 
 kiss pretty serving maids. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Often have I reproached myself for 
 that, but now, see, I am most earnest. 
 I do not laugh. If I laughed then, it 
 was because I thought fate laughed at 
 me. I love you madly — 
 
 FATMEH 
 You thought me so lightly won! You 
 think, now, because the law, or a farce 
 of a ceremony made me your wife — 
 although you never won me (the tvords 
 rush from her lips) as a woman should 
 be won — You think because an empty 
 contract gave you certain legal rights, 
 you can use them to claim my heart, 
 my life, the very breath of my soul — 
 (struggles to release herself) 
 
 DERVISH (still managing to hold her) 
 I think nothing of the kind, Fat- 
 meh. I — 
 
 FATMEH (hysterical laugh) 
 You were given a "square meal" to 
 take me. I was sold for a "square 
 meal." You told me so, yourself. That 
 wasn't very expensive, was it? Ha! 
 ha! I should feel flattered. But if you 
 think the square meal included my 
 love? — (ominously) No, no! That 
 (tearing herself from his arms) didn't 
 go with the menu — 
 
 DERVISH (going to her passionately) 
 Fatmeh, we were both victims of un- 
 toward circumstances. Forget them. 
 Let me try fo win you for yourself, as 
 a man would win the woman he loves. 
 As — (sudden change of tone. He sees 
 Sadi, ivho has just come back at top 
 of path. Sadi has not caught the der- 
 vish's words, but he has caught enough, 
 in the relative attitudes of the two 
 below, to inspire Mm with sudden new 
 curiosity.) I think you are most im- 
 pertinent for a lad — 
 
38 
 
 FATMEH (surprised, trying to break 
 away) 
 Ah! 
 
 DERVISH 
 Impertinent! (aside, hastily) Seem 
 to act! (raises Ms hand) 
 
 FATMEH (shrinking, amazed) 
 What?— what?— 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes; I'll strike you again, and again, 
 if you dare to be impertinent to — 
 
 SADI (coming down, speaks coldly) 
 Chastising him, are you? (Fatmeh 
 sees him and shoivs surprise.) 
 
 FATMEH 
 That I was, impudent young rascal! 
 
 SADI (slight change of expression) 
 Rather good-looking for a — boy! 
 
 DERVISH 
 Don't tell him so. He's already 
 spoiled. The women have run after 
 him — A plague on them! — As for me, 
 it's enough if he plays properly on his 
 instrument and behaves himself. 
 
 SADI (slight grin) 
 So the ladies have remarked he's a 
 pretty fellow? Perhaps (maliciously) 
 he even has a sweetheart among them? 
 
 FATMEH (more boldly) 
 And if I have. 
 
 DERVISH (hastily) 
 He is probably no worse than most 
 lads of his age. But what would you? 
 Youth will ever have its pranks. 
 
 SADI 
 Where did you get him? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Near Arak. He is desert-bred. His 
 father sold him to me as a child. 
 
 SADI 
 Will you sell him? 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 No. 
 
 SADI 
 For a large sum? 
 
 DERVISH 
 He is fairly trained. I must live. I 
 could not, without him. 
 
 SADI 
 But now, you thought him poorly 
 trained. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Not on that, (indicates musical in- 
 strument.) 
 
 SADI 
 You are very obstinate for a poor 
 romance-reciter. 
 
 DERVISH 
 A man may keep what is his. 
 
 SADI 
 True. I came back to say this run- 
 away pair may have exchanged their 
 fine garments for commoner ones — 
 farmers' clothes, or (significantly) 
 others. 
 
 DERVISH (shaking head) 
 Still am I positive we did not en- 
 counter them. For not being able to 
 serve you, I crave a thousand pardons. 
 (bows several times.) 
 
 SADI (cunningly) 
 You do not seem such an unworthy 
 fellow, (turns) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Peace be unto you! 
 
 SADI (stopping) 
 He has delicate hands for a rough 
 desert boy. (Fatmeh makes as if to 
 hide her hands, but does not.) 
 
 DERVISH (indicating kanoon) 
 It is a delicate instrument. The 
 hands of an aboo's pupil are his stock 
 in trade. 
 
 SADI 
 You have ever an answer. (Goes, 
 starts to climb up rocky side, but stops. 
 He takes a coin from his poket.) Al- 
 though I have listened to no tale, still 
 I have taken much of your time. Here, 
 boy. (Fatmeh hesitates.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Go, get it. (She walks toward Sadi. 
 She even attempts a slight swagger, but 
 is a little embarrassed as his gaze 
 passes over her from head to foot.) 
 
 FATMEH (reaching for coin) 
 Thank you. 
 
 SADI (reaching down) 
 
 Here. (But instead of dropping coin 
 
 in her hand, he seizes the turban, and 
 
 ivith a quick motion, jerks it from her 
 
 head. Her dark hair falls abundantly 
 
39 
 
 about her shoulders.) I fancy Amad 
 won't have far to look for his bride. 
 (He starts back, but before he can exit, 
 to return for his companions, the der- 
 vish rushes up and seizes him by the 
 throat. They struggle on the rocky 
 edge. Sadi draws a knife. The other 
 forces him to drop it by twisting his 
 arm. They sway to and fro a few mo- 
 ments, then both roll off the rock and 
 out of sight.) 
 
 FATMEH (wJio has started towards 
 them.) 
 He has fallen over. He is killed. 
 (She stands as if dazed.) It is my 
 fault — mine! It was through me, Sadi 
 saw, and guessed. (She gazes once 
 more fearfully back. The dervish 
 quickly reappears above rock and 
 springs to the stage. She gives a glad 
 exclamation.) Then you? — 
 
 DERVISH (cheerfully) 
 Hardly a scratch! He was beneath 
 and struck his head on the rock. He 
 will be unconscious for some time. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 I feared- 
 
 DERVISH 
 Fatmeh! (Goes to take her in his 
 arins again.) 
 
 FATMEH 
 No, no! (looks off) 
 
 DERVISH 
 True. The others — 
 
 FATMEH 
 What shall we do? 
 
 DERVISH 
 We'll hope to be far away before he 
 comes. 
 
 FATMEH 
 You but try to deceive me. Your 
 gayety is false. You know (fatalist- 
 ically) they will catch us — two on one 
 beast. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Well, we haven't two camels. 
 
 FATMEH 
 You could leave me. 
 
 DERVISH (lightly) 
 So I could. 
 
 FATMEH 
 They won't kill me. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Only you! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 DERVISH 
 Wait here while I see about the 
 camel. (He exits up pass.) 
 
 FATMEH (sitting miserably on rock) 
 Sadi's men will come back to see 
 what has become of their leader. They 
 will find him down there and then? — 
 He will recover and speak unless? — 
 (She peers over rock.) He is uncon- 
 scious. I could prevent his ever tell- 
 ing who we are. (takes out dagger) 
 No; I couldn't do that. (Replaces dag- 
 ger, looks off, suddenly starts vio- 
 lently.) 
 
 DERVISH 
 What will they do? (looks off) Why, 
 they're leaving. 
 
 FATMEH (joyfully) 
 Leaving? 
 
 Dervish re-enters hastily. 
 
 FATMEH (rushing to him) 
 Amad! — He is coming. He has 
 many followers. He will be here in 
 a few moments. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes. Evidently Sadi told them to 
 ride on. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes; the foremost of his men are 
 already at the pool. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 They are going down the other spur. 
 
 DERVISH (gayly) 
 While we have his camel. It should 
 be there at the pool. 
 
 FATMEH (doubtfully) 
 But to force it to carry double? — 
 You remember his words, about Amad 
 following?— 
 
 FATMEH 
 We can do nothing! You are lost — 
 That dreadful fate Sadi spoke of— 
 
 DERVISH 
 There are worse things than death. 
 (looks at her) 
 
 FATMEH 
 There is no hope? (He does not an- 
 swer.) We can, at least, die together. 
 
40 
 
 See! I do not fear. You shall strike 
 the blow. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 No, no! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Would you let me go into slavery — 
 worse? — Amad — He and Light of Life 
 will have no pity on me now. He 
 thinks me bold — shameless — You know 
 what is the lot of even a respected 
 woman in this land. What would be 
 mine now? I can not go back to Da- 
 mascus, to become his plaything — not 
 even that probably for long! Now 
 that he thinks what he does of me, 
 he would soon cast me aside. I'm just 
 showing you a condition. It has hap- 
 pened to other women who have lost 
 the respect of their husbands. They 
 are passed from hand to hand. Think 
 of that! Of course I must die. You — 
 realize that, don't you? You — you are 
 my husband — at least, in name — (ivild 
 little laugh) You would not have me 
 go back to him, or be taken by him? 
 You must have me remain your true 
 wife, for I would have been that to 
 you some time, if you had wanted 
 me — 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Fatmeh! 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes — yes — I can tell you now. I do 
 love you. I loved the little boy. I 
 cried when he went away. (He takes 
 her in his arms.) I thought my little 
 heart was broken when he sailed out 
 of the harbor. But he came back and 
 I learned to love him all over again — 
 only more — So now I've told you, and 
 when you die, I must — It is hard to 
 strike the blow myself. Think if my 
 hand should falter! I don't believe it 
 would — but any woman is a little weak. 
 What if I should be? It is inconceiv- 
 able, but that is just what sometimes 
 happens. It is such a strange world, 
 and we are all so very mortal! — so full 
 of mortal weaknesses! — Make sure, 
 then. I wouldn't fear death from you. 
 
 DERVISH (brokenly) 
 We will see — we will, see — (disen- 
 gages himself and looks off) Yes, they 
 are coming nearer — (hard laugh) He 
 rides on a great camel, with gorgeous 
 trappings, like a sultan. There are 
 many of them — Two score — (clenches 
 hands) What a helpless thing I have 
 become! (again looks off) Nearer! 
 
 FATMEH 
 You have done all any man could do. 
 It is I who am the cause of all this 
 
 misfortune to — to my little boy. (Her 
 voice breaks.) That sounds so — so 
 funny! You're so big now. I — I be- 
 lieve I don't know what I'm saying. 
 (He takes her in his arms again.) How 
 — how ridiculous we can't be happy. It 
 is my fault — Why, if I weren't here, 
 you could face him; he would not know 
 you. But he would recognize — unless? 
 —unless? — (She withdraws slowly 
 from his embrace) 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Unless? 
 
 FATMEH 
 That absurd part I sometimes take 
 of the Jewish boy? — You spoke of it 
 not long ago. (She takes out bag.) 
 These absurd side-locks! (She takes 
 out exaggerated side-locks from bag.) 
 The wayside country people — I de- 
 ceived them — (more feverishly) Per- 
 haps I could him. I can try. It will 
 be fighting for your life, as well as 
 mine. It is a chance, (adjusts locks) 
 Don't I look funny! (takes out tiny 
 mustache) He may not know me. 
 
 DERVISH 
 He may not. (His tone expresses 
 doubt.) 
 
 FATMEH 
 He is of the old school of Moham- 
 medans. He hates Jews and Christians 
 alike. He always used to turn his 
 head and spit, when he met a Jew in 
 the Street that ia Called Straight. 
 When he sees the side-curls, he will 
 not glance at my face. Besides, it — 
 (indica tes moustach e) 
 
 DERVISH (optomistic tone) 
 You are right. I believe you can do 
 it. (They both laugh, exaggeratedly, 
 then she cries a little. He takes her in 
 his arms and laughs) 1 shouldn't 
 know you, for you. 
 
 FATMEH (hysterically) 
 Kiss me. (He does so. Fatmeh then 
 releases herself sioiftly, wipes her eyes, 
 throws back her head, then strikes a 
 few wild measures on the musical in- 
 strument.) 
 
 Enter Amad on a large camel, with 
 gorgeous trappings. He is followed by 
 many men who have left their camels 
 at the pool. 
 
 AMAD 
 We may rest here awhile. A curse 
 to this mad chase! (T?ie camel kneels) 
 I have wasted much valuable time in 
 
seeking to administer justice on this 
 scoundrel and his light of love! (Fat- 
 mch, icho sits ivith Jiand to cheek, half- 
 concealing her profile from him, 
 winces.) 
 
 ONE OF THE MEN 
 Do not fear. We shall soon have 
 them back. (Men begin to arrange 
 rugs.) 
 
 ANOTHER MAN 
 It won't be long before the lost pearl 
 is restored to our illustrious patron. 
 
 AM AD (harsh laugh) 
 Pearl? Not a very white one! (Fat- 
 meh shivers slightly) Some of its lus- 
 tre gone! Never mind; I want her 
 back. It may be for love, or who shall 
 say? The prophet does not forbid 
 punishment for wives who are wan- 
 tons. (Fatmeh starts more violently.) 
 She refused my kisses once — mine! 
 
 ONE OR TWO MEN (ivondering) 
 Yours? The great diamond mer- 
 chant? 
 
 AMAD (sitting on cushions on great 
 rug that is spread for him) 
 My disgrace is public property. Why 
 should I not speak? All Damascus 
 knows. Perhaps even now do the ro- 
 mance-reciters, like yonder one, intone 
 the story to the gaping crowd collected 
 on some street corner? (looks toward 
 Fatmeh) A Jewish boy! (shows dis. 
 taste and turns his head. To dervish) 
 Are players on the kanoon so scarce 
 you must take one of those people? 
 
 DERVISH (approaching and bending 
 very low) 
 It is even so. (He remains in kneel- 
 ing position before Amad.) Besides, 
 he has an unusual talent. 
 
 AMAD (abruptly) 
 Some men passed this way? 
 
 DERVISH 
 They did. (posturing low) 
 
 AMAD 
 
 Their leader questioned you? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Yes, but unfortunately I had no in- 
 formation to give him. 
 
 AMAD 
 Their leader went on? 
 
 S^adi's head, in a bright light, appears 
 slowly above the top of the rock at 
 
 back. He is climbing up, evidently 
 with great difficulty and is very weak. 
 His appearance of panting shows he 
 can not call out. He clings for a mo- 
 ment with an effort, but can not sus- 
 tain himself. Fatmeh alone sees him. 
 Her face shows terror. Her fingers 
 tremble violently above the musical 
 instrument. As he falls her expression 
 changes to one of relief. The dervish, 
 with head bent low before Amad, does 
 not see Sadi. 
 
 DERVISH (answering Amad) 
 He did. 
 
 One of the men brings coffee pot in 
 vessel of brass containing charcoal and 
 sets this near Amad. Others bring 
 brass tisht (pitcher) and ibreek (bowl). 
 He washes his hands. Others place 
 kursee and seeneeyeh (low table and 
 brass tray) before him. Dates, fruit 
 and bread are placed on this. Amad 
 eats. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Is it your pleasure we go? Or do 
 you command our poor services? 
 
 AMAD 
 Your boy sings? 
 
 DERVISH (hastily) 
 Were not a tale from me better? 
 
 AMAD (angrily) 
 You bandy words. Does he know 
 "The Vergeance of the Emir?" It is 
 a good poem with many songs and has 
 been approved from time immemorial 
 by pious men and injured husbands, 
 with bad women for wives. (Fatmeh 
 bites her lips. She restrains herself 
 with difficulty. The dervish bends his 
 head lower. One of his hands, it can 
 be seen, is clenched.) It is a lesson to 
 such — women of no morals — women of 
 loose character — 
 
 FATMEH 
 Oh! (Her trembling fingers strike 
 the strings.) It comes to me. (She be- 
 gins to play distractedly.) I — I will 
 sing and play it — 
 
 AMAD (interrupting) 
 Never mind the first part. (Without 
 looking directly at Fatmeh and ad- 
 dressing the dervish.) Have your boy 
 come at once to the song of the mem- 
 lock and where the Emir of the tribe 
 of Benee-Hilal, returning unexpectedly 
 to his home, surprises the young slave 
 with his wife. Have him tell of the 
 rage of this great Emir, a man of 
 
42 
 
 eighty righteous years, dishonored by 
 his bride of fifteen. Tell, also, how 
 he killed the one and punished the 
 other. But if he does not tell it well, 
 (fiercely) I'll have the boy beaten as 
 he had her— the shoulders stripped and 
 the lash laid on. Oh, it was excellently 
 done! He was a great and just man. 
 
 DERVISH (repeating) 
 A great and just man! (bows more 
 servilely. His eyes swing to Fatmeh.) 
 Sing, boy; sing of this virtuous deed. 
 Is it your wish (to Amad) he should 
 draw nearer? 
 
 AMAD (spitting contemptuously) 
 Not he! We listen to Jews, but it 
 
 is not meet they should come too close. 
 
 Begin! (without looking at Fatmeh.) 
 
 Fatmeh rises; tries to play, hut for 
 the moment, does not seem to be able 
 to. 
 
 DERVISH (harshly, concealing great 
 anxiety) 
 
 Well, have you forgotten? Will you 
 endanger your shoulders and mine, 
 too? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Forget? No; how could I forget 
 such a tale? The just vengeance of 
 this great man — this good man, like 
 Mohammed for piety!— fAmrtrt nods 
 approvingly) How could I forget the 
 foul injury wrought on this venerable 
 kind man of eighty by his faithless 
 wife — this loose one — this wanton — 
 (checks icild laugh.) This is the song 
 of the young memlock beneath her 
 window — You, venerable, just and 
 much injured sir (to Amad) wish me 
 to come to that? (Amad nods assent- 
 ingly without looking at her.) 
 
 FatmeWs fingers sweep wildly over 
 the strings. She sings with great fer- 
 vor and passion an Arabic love song. 
 Amad listens; his face shows conflict- 
 ing emotions; his fingers twitch. Fat- 
 meh now seems to have thrown dis- 
 cretion to the winds. She is acting 
 with reckless freedom. 
 
 FATMEH (at conclusion of song) 
 All this the Emir heard. He saw the 
 young slave creep to his wife's win- 
 dow—He saw him climb up— and 
 enter — 
 
 SadVs head reappears at the top of 
 the rock. His expression now is more 
 assured, his face savagely exultant. 
 Fatmeh sees him; halts in her tale. 
 
 AMAD (as if sivept on by the recital) 
 He saw the foul fellow take his 
 young wife in his arms; he saw him 
 kiss her; he saw her return his ca- 
 resses. This — all this, he noted — 
 
 FATMEH (moving toward back) 
 All he noted — 
 
 AMAD 
 He knew, then, all women were one 
 in lewdness — all the same — 
 
 FATMEH (uHldly) 
 All the same — 
 
 AMAD 
 So, drawing his dagger — 
 
 FATMEH 
 His dagger — (draws hers) 
 
 AMAD 
 He suddenly sprang forward — 
 
 FATMEH 
 Sprang forward — 
 
 She suddenly springs back. Her 
 hand loith the dagger descends once, 
 twice on Sadi. Dervish, alone watching 
 her, sees. The others are looking at 
 Amad. Sadi releases his hold, falls. 
 The dervish utters a cry to drown 
 sound of Sadi's voice. 
 
 AMAD (starting) 
 What was that? 
 
 DERVISH 
 I but called out — Your acting was 
 so real. 
 
 AMAD (staring at Fatmeh, or rather, 
 at the dagger she holds) 
 The boy's dagger — it is red — 
 
 DERVISH 
 It is your mind that sees red — not 
 the eye. 
 
 AMAD (muttering) 
 True, (sinks back) 
 
 Fatmeh thrusts dagger in her dress. 
 She sways, holds herself ivith difficulty. 
 Dervish looks at her lOith great anx- 
 iety. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Is it your wish to hear the rest of 
 the poem and the songs? 
 
 AMAD (muttering) 
 No, no! (rising) I am ready. The 
 camels are watered. A curse to wait- 
 
43 
 
 ing! Red! I can only see red. It is 
 in the mind as tliat reciter said. The 
 heart's blood of the foul ravager! The 
 blood that drips from the shoulders 
 of the wanton! Let us be off! We 
 shall soon find them. And when I do! 
 — when I do! — Bring my camel to the 
 edge of the desert. Be off— off— (He 
 exits to the left.) 
 
 The men gather up the traps from 
 the stage and exit. Dervish waits, lis. 
 tens, toatches. He looks at Fatmeh but 
 does not dare speak yet. She stands 
 swaying, a queer little smile on her 
 lips. 
 
 DERVISH (cautiously, after pause) 
 Fatmeh! (She comes toicard him. 
 About to fall, he takes her in his arms.) 
 Fatmeh! 
 
 FATMEH (recovering, hysterically) 
 It is nothing — nothing — How could 
 I do it? (horrified tone) See — see if he 
 is dead. 
 
 DERVISH 
 What matter? It was bravely done 
 — bravely! — my beautiful one. A blow 
 for your life. It was splendid — 
 
 FATMEH (same tone) 
 It was horrible. See! see. I dare 
 not look. 
 
 She sinks near a rock. He goes and 
 looks over to Sadi beloiv. 
 
 DERVISH 
 He is still breathing. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I am glad of that, (hysterically) Go! 
 go! Bind his wound. 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 What? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Quick! quick! I would do it, but I 
 am weak. I would not have him die. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Better so — for your sake! He de- 
 serves his fate. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Never shall I forget his eyes when I 
 struck. Poor fellow! 
 
 DERVISH (admiringly) 
 My wife is an angel. 
 
 FATMEH (mournfully) 
 A moment ago I did not feel like 
 one. I shudder at myself. But go! 
 go! Do this for me. 
 
 DERVISH 
 As you will! (exits over rock at 
 back) 
 
 Fatmeh leans back as if slightly 
 overcome. She has removed the side- 
 locks and tiny mustache. A strange 
 light appears and vanishes on the hori- 
 zon. A very distant sand column is 
 shown at back, crossing the desert. It 
 is folloived by another. A third springs 
 up, but vanishes. 
 
 FATMEH (watching) 
 The zoba'ah! Pillar of sand! The 
 genii ride upoii them. It is an evil 
 omen. (Instinctively she murmurs a 
 charm.) Allahu akbar! Allahu! (Dis- 
 tant sound of motor car is heard.) 
 What is that? What a strange sound! 
 (.She rises and goi*^ tip stage.) And 
 what a strange object! How quickly 
 it comes! And there are neither asses, 
 nor camels attached to it. 
 
 Dervish hastily springs on to stage 
 from back. 
 
 DERVISH 
 A motor car! Yes, no doubt! (joy- 
 ously) Some car after a record! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 What is it? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Haven't you ever seen one of those 
 things? 
 
 No. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 DERVISH 
 That's because you were brought up 
 in Damascus. 
 
 FATMEH 
 It moves, but there's nothing to move 
 
 DERVISH 
 Oh, yes there is. 
 
 FATMEH (puzzled) 
 I don't see anything. 
 
 DERVISH 
 You don't see gasoline. You only 
 smell it. 
 
 FATMEH 
 What's it doing here? 
 
 DERVISH 
 The car? Might be a machine after 
 a record for the manufacturer. If so, 
 
44 
 
 two montlis from now you'll see that 
 car displayed In a show window on 
 Broadway, with a picture of the desert 
 and an oasis in the background. 
 
 FATMEH 
 What is Broadway? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Well, it's not so thirsty a place as 
 the desert, (watching) By Jove! 
 
 FATMEH 
 What is it? 
 
 DERVISH (lively tone) 
 It floats the Union Jack. A private 
 car of some enterprising pathfinder 
 and — (car very close) Yes, it is — (tJie 
 car stops, the front part of it shoiving 
 at entrance at left, toward back. Lord 
 Fitzgerald is on front seat, at steering 
 wheel, monocle in his eye.) 
 
 LORD FITZGERALD (to native serv- 
 ant on back seat, not seen by 
 audience) 
 Get out a bottle of cold Cliquot. 
 
 DERVISH (going toward Fitzgerald) 
 Fitzgerald! Lord Fitzgerald! 
 
 FITZGERALD (cocking monocle in 
 his direction) 
 Eh? What? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Heard you were contemplating a 
 trip across the African cannibal belt, 
 my lord? Did you abandon it because 
 a German got in ahead of you, and 
 come here instead? 
 
 FITZGERALD (recognizing him) 
 Jack Carruthers! The young Amer- 
 ican I made the wager with, by Jove! 
 (gets out of car.) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Why not? 
 
 DERVISH (same tone) 
 Girl. 
 
 FITZGERALD (surprised) 
 Eh? (Monocle drops from eye.) Oh, 
 you gay — 
 
 DERVISH (quickly) 
 My wife! 
 
 FITZGERALD (more surprised) 
 Eh? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Fact! (aside) No need of telling him 
 she is only my make-believe wife, at 
 present. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Congratulate you. Thought her too 
 handsome for a boy. Too — aw! — That 
 is, graceful, and — 
 
 DERVISH 
 Never mind. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Quite so. How did you win her? 
 
 DERVISH 
 She was won for me. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 You Americans are always time-sav- 
 ers. Honeymoon now? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Something like that. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Where did you come from? 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Damascus. 
 
 They shake hands. Fatmeh draws 
 somewhat apart, as if slightly con- 
 strained by her costume, in the pres- 
 ence of a white man and one who is a 
 friend of the dervish. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 And so you got to Mecca? (dervish 
 nods) I congratulate you, though 
 (laughing) it will cost me a pretty 
 penny if you get out of this country 
 undetected. I suppose that's why you 
 are wearing those togs. And your 
 companion? (regarding Fatmeh) 
 
 DERVISH (loiv tone) 
 Do not stare too hard. 
 
 FITZGERALD (laughinQ) 
 Oh, I say— Delightful! What an 
 original fellow! (looking from, one to 
 the other) You've been wandering 
 through the real, genuine, only bona 
 fide Garden of Eden. Fancy planning 
 that for a wedding trip! 
 
 DERVISH 
 We didn't plan it. It was planned 
 for us. (goes back of stage, looks anx- 
 iously off, and returns) Fatmeh, this 
 is Lord Fitzgerald, of whom you have 
 heard me speak! (Fatmeh approaches 
 very shyly.) He tells me we have been 
 wandering through the Garden of 
 Eden. 
 
45 
 
 FITZGERALD feffusivehj) 
 Precise locality! Watered by the 
 two identical Biblical rivers! Lucky 
 couple! What an experience! To bask 
 amid the ambrosial odors that de- 
 lighted the senses of the first pair of 
 lovers! To bathe in the pool where 
 the beautiful prototype of all lovely 
 femininity laved her fair limbs. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Something like that. Where are you 
 going? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 Coast. 
 
 DERVISH 
 have a favor to ask. 
 
 DERVISH (aside to Fitzgerald) 
 Not too much of that! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 After breakfast! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 To lie on the mosses where the first 
 suitor whispered the universal story in 
 the not unwilling ear of the first vot- 
 ary of love! To listen to the birds 
 in the foliage-embowered nook where 
 the original groom sipped the nectars 
 of delight from the dewy lips of the 
 first sweet blushing bride of all man- 
 kind! 
 
 FATMEH 
 What does he mean? (goes up stage 
 and looks anxiously off.) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 My boy, you are to be congratulated. 
 And now if you and your bride will 
 join me in a little wedding breakfast. 
 We can have a cold bottle and a bird. 
 And (prodigious icink) a little fruit — 
 
 DERVISH (absently) 
 Thanks, but— 
 
 DERVISH 
 Now. There will be no breakfast for 
 us. I must even ask you to postpone 
 your own breakfast. 
 
 FITZGERALD (protesting) 
 But I'm a man of regular hapits. My 
 liver demands — 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 The favor is not for myself. The 
 written conditions of our wager pro- 
 vide that I must make the trip to Mecca 
 and return without asking the assist- 
 ance of any consul or white man. 
 
 FITZGERALD (promptly) 
 Waive the condition! 
 
 DERVISH 
 Generous of you, but I can't accept. 
 I can, however, and do, ask a favor 
 for my — my wife! 
 
 FITZGERALD (another icink) 
 Fruit! Apples! 
 
 FATMEH (who has looked over rock, 
 cones down suddenly) 
 He's gone — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Who? The serpent? 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Impossible! 
 
 FATMEH 
 He isn't there. He's crawled away 
 somewhere — But he can't be far — 
 
 DERVISH 
 What matter? He can't harm us 
 now. 
 
 Fatmeh goes up stage quickly. 
 
 FITZGERALD (staring) 
 What is this? An intruder in para- 
 dise? An interloper in your Eden? 
 
 FITZGERALD (promptly) 
 Ask it. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Take her with you to the coast. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 Eh? 
 
 DERVISH 
 I'm expecting arrivals. 
 
 Arabs? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 DERVISH (nods) 
 
 After us! 
 
 FITZGERALD (looking at Fatmeh) 
 Elopement? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Something like that. 
 
 Serious? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
46 
 
 DERVISH 
 Rather! The man at the head of 
 those fellows — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 With the white beard, fierce, gorge- 
 ously attired chap on a big camel? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Amad! How do you know? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Passed him out there in the desert. 
 He had stopped to talk with another 
 band of men he had overtaken. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Then they will soon be back here to 
 find out what has become of Sadi. You 
 will take her? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Yes; but you? — 
 
 DERVISH 
 I've got a camel in there, near the 
 pool. I want to save that ten thou- 
 sand pounds for her. She hasn't a 
 cent — not a piaster. I risked my entire 
 fortune on that wager of ours. 
 
 FITZGERALD (staring) 
 You did? I thought all Americans 
 were millionaires. 
 
 DERVISH (more sternly) 
 Fatmeh! — it is my will — I order you 
 
 to- 
 
 FATMEH (calmly) 
 I refuse to obey. I absolutely won't 
 go in the car without you. 
 
 FITZGERALD (to dervish) 
 Better yield gracefully. 
 
 DERVISH 
 I do. (sadly) I'm afraid my wife 
 won't have much to live on. 
 
 FATMEH (throwing herself in his 
 
 arms) 
 I only want you. We must never be 
 separated now. If you die, I die. We 
 Greeks are like that, (proudly) We 
 don't give our hearts lightly. But when 
 we do? — (gazes passionately into his 
 eyes. Then closes her own ivith a sigh 
 of happiness. She remains thus a mo- 
 ment passively. Dervish looking down 
 on her.) 
 
 FITGZERALD (patiently) 
 1 don't want to interrupt, but did 
 you say something about expecting vis- 
 itors? 
 
 FATMEH (tearing herself aivay) 
 We must go. (crossing to car) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Not this one! 
 
 FATMEH (coming doion) 
 I think they are returning. 
 
 DERVISH (to Fatmeh) 
 Lord Fitzgerald has tendered us the 
 use of his car. He will take you away. 
 They can never catch you. I will fol- 
 low on Sadi's camel. 
 
 FATMEH (dismayed) 
 Why don't you go in the car, too? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Circumstances prevent. 
 
 FATMEH (calmly) 
 I won't go in it, then, either. 
 
 DERVISH 
 But if I say you must? — A husband 
 has the right to command — 
 
 FATMEH 
 His wife to desert him? No. 
 cidedly) 
 
 FITZGERALD (gallantly) 
 Will you not ride in front with the 
 driver? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes, yes. If you wish, or I could 
 ride behind with — (looks at dervish) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Madam, I claim my right, 
 ways an owner's privilege — 
 
 It is al- 
 
 (de- 
 
 FATMEH (gayly) 
 Oh, well! (gets in) You're sure it 
 can go twice as fast as camels? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Three times as fast. (At back of 
 stage another sand colutnn is seen 
 crossing the desert.) Looks as if it 
 might storm! Won't interfere with 
 us. Can close the car as tight as a 
 drum, (to servant) Crank up! (Ser- 
 vant obeys, then gets in behind. Der- 
 vish closes door after Fatmeh. Effect 
 of heat lightning. Sound of camels is 
 heard.) 
 
47 
 
 FATMEH (nervously to dervish) 
 Why don't you get in? They will be 
 here in a moment. 
 
 DERVISH 
 All right, (springs toward back) 
 
 FATMEH 
 Quick, or — (ticreams as Sadi sud- 
 denly rushes on from side and seizes 
 dervish, throwing him back from car. 
 At the same time the machine starts. 
 Dervish tries to release himself from 
 Sadi to regain car, but Sadi clings like 
 a loild cat. Sound of voices and camels 
 much nearer.) 
 
 FITZGERALD (about to spring out, to 
 dervish) 
 Shall I?— 
 
 DERVISH (breathlessly) 
 You would only be taken. Leave me! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 No, no! (rises) 
 
 DERVISH (struggling tcith Sadi) 
 Full speed ahead! It is the only 
 way. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Let me — (starts frantically to get 
 out) 
 
 DERVISH (to Fitzgerald) 
 It will be too late. Save her. 
 
 Fitzgerald puts on speed suddenly. 
 The motion throws Fatmeh back. She 
 again tries to get out. Fitzgerald re- 
 strains her. Motor exits. Dervish 
 hurls Sadi to far side of stage, and 
 rushes up pass for the camel of Sadi, 
 as Amad and his men enter from other 
 side of stage. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 Second Picture. Dervish is seen 
 crossing at back on camel. Amad and 
 others start in pursuit. Storm effect. 
 One of the sand columns rushes across 
 the stage. Palm over-reaching from 
 rock, falls with a crash. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 Third Picture. A barren waste of 
 desert. Not a sign of life. 
 
 SLOW CURTAIN 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Three months later. Interior, upper 
 sitting-room of house in Syrian town 
 on the Mediterranean. Balcony over- 
 looking an orange grove and the dis- 
 tant sea. Fatmeh and Lord Fitzgerald 
 discovered. Fatmeh is dressed in fash- 
 ionable Paris gown. 
 
 FATMEH 
 No word of him? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 I am sorry. 
 
 FATMEH (dejected) 
 It begins to look— That awful sand 
 storm! He must have perished in it. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 We must not lose courage. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Have I? Do I not go down every 
 day, with new hope, among the camel 
 men, returning from the desert? And 
 always is it not the same reply? "We 
 have not come across any Aboo Zeydee, 
 or romance-reciter. We have not heard 
 any news of him." Not even heard! 
 (despairingly) Surely someone would 
 have heard, unless — 
 
 FITZGERALD (soothingly) 
 Not necessarily! He may be mak- 
 ing his way to some other place on the 
 coast. He may have changed his 
 course, gone to Bagdad to work down 
 to a seaport on the Persian gulf. 
 
 FATMEH (shaking her head) 
 I'm sure he would try to come here. 
 Why (despairingly) did you force me 
 to stay in the car? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 It was his command, (gently) He 
 did what he thought was best to serve, 
 to save you — 
 
 FATMEH (brokenly) 
 He always did that. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 He may come yet. There are scores 
 of reasons why he may be delayed. 
 
 Amad appears at door; stands un- 
 seen by them. 
 
 FATMEH 
 I pray it may not be the one great 
 reason, (draws breath) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Nonsense! (sees Amad tvho has sud- 
 denly stepped forward) Eh? (Fatmeh 
 
48 
 
 sees Mm, also, and gives a startled ex- 
 clamation) 
 
 FITZGERALD (to Fatmeh) 
 Do you permit these — aw! — people 
 to come into your presence without be- 
 ing announced? 
 
 FATMEH 
 I — it is — (Her look tells Fitzgerald 
 who Amad is) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Not? — (aside) That old scoundrel of 
 a first husband! 
 
 AMAD (tranquilly) 
 I did not have myself announced, be- 
 cause I feared this lady (impersonal 
 gesture) might be averse to receiving 
 me. 
 
 FITZGERALD (dryhj) 
 At least, you are frank. 
 
 AMAD (coolly) 
 May I ask what it is to you, 
 whether — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 I am a friend of this lady and, also, 
 of her husband. 
 
 AMAD 
 Ah, you are the Britisher who had 
 the devil car. (calmly) I, too, am a 
 friend of her husband. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 You! You! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Ah, yes. A jest! Rather a poor one. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 It is no jest. At least, I am not his 
 enemy. 
 
 FATMEH (disconnectedly) 
 What trick is this? What have you 
 come to tell me? What do you ex- 
 pect? You were drawing near the 
 spot in the desert, where he was left 
 alone, by me, against my will — 
 
 FITZGERALD (to her) 
 There! there! 
 
 FATMEH 
 You found him. You! — (acctisingly) 
 Oh, I'm not afraid of you now. Let 
 me know, at once, even the worst — 
 Where is he? 
 
 AMAD (coldly) 
 I don't know. 
 
 FATMEH 
 But you wanted to — 
 
 AMAD (calmly) 
 Kill him? Oh, yes. I was sorry I 
 didn't. But the will of Allah (resign- 
 edly) was against it. 
 
 FATMEH 
 The will of Allah? — (Her eyes search 
 his) You have never told me anything 
 but lies — lies. How can I believe you 
 now? 
 
 AMAD (impervious to emotion) 
 That is not for me to say. I speak 
 the truth. I didn't kill him. I didn't 
 have the chance. Allah said "No," 
 even at the moment when I aimed a 
 pistol at him. I had overtaken him in 
 the desert. I thought I had his life in 
 the palm of my hand. Joy filled my 
 soul. But the Compassionate One de- 
 prived me of the full fruition of my 
 pleasure by causing sand to be blown 
 into my eyes. What followed? Never 
 was such a storm. Pillars of sand 
 with the genii astride them! Howling; 
 shouting; shrieking! Men and camels 
 were buried. Ten thousand demons 
 exulted over another unmarked grave- 
 yard of the desert. 
 
 FATMEH (hardly able to speak) 
 But you — escaped? 
 
 AMAD (calmly) 
 Allah spared me for a life of further 
 usefulness. 
 
 FITZGERALD (noticing Fatmeh tries 
 to ask a question but is not able to, 
 
 at once) 
 And this lady's companion, the 
 
 American? 
 
 AMAD 
 He escaped the storm, too. 
 
 FATMEH (joyfully) 
 He escaped? It is true, then? 
 
 AMAD (steadily) 
 It is true. 
 
 FATMEH (looking at him. Slowly) 
 He speaks the truth. 
 
 AMAD 
 The ways of Allah are inscrutable. 
 He employs even our enemies for our 
 servants. Blessed be the name of 
 Allah. (He postures once or twice.) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 You mean he served you? How? 
 
49 
 
 AMAD 
 He, alone, managed to extricate him- 
 self from the sands after the storm. 
 He saw a flutter of my turban and 
 divined what lay beneath. Casting 
 off the sand, he worked over me and 
 gave me to drink when already was 
 my soul trembling in the balance and 
 consciousness had gone. He brought 
 back the life that like a leaf before the 
 breeze was fleeting away. The birds 
 on high waited and waited. Long they 
 were in doubt. Then suddenly they 
 disappeared. What had happened? An 
 eyelid had fluttered. They saw it. The 
 soul had returned. There was but one 
 camel alive — his and it was nearly 
 dead. Worn out, it would not have 
 carried two. He was young, I am old. 
 He had a better chance to get out of 
 the desert afoot, than I. 
 
 FATMEH (drawing nearer) 
 What? (she seems hardly able to 
 breathe) 
 
 ■AMAD (calmly) 
 For me, it would have meant the 
 completion of that dissolution he had 
 just saved me from! Better he had 
 left me where I was. He appreciated 
 this delicate point and ordered me to 
 take the camel. 
 
 FATMEH (repeating) 
 He ordered you to — 
 
 AMAD 
 Take the camel. We divided the 
 water bottle with great fairness. There 
 was but one to be found. I would 
 have spoken with him of what had 
 gone before, forgiven him, perhaps — 
 
 FATMEH (abhorrence of tone) 
 Oh! 
 
 me in sight of safety. It was written. 
 (He bows toward Mecca) 
 
 FATMEH 
 You mean he did that for you? — 
 
 AMAD 
 It was, after all, an equitable ar- 
 rangement. 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 For you! 
 
 AMAD 
 Does not the prophet bid youth? — 
 
 FATMEH 
 He gave his life for yours? 
 
 AMAD 
 
 There is nothing more fleeting than 
 life! What is it? Nothing! Why 
 should we value it? — 
 
 FITZGERALD (aside) 
 In others? 
 
 AMAD 
 We are here to-day; to-morrow — 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Go! go! 
 
 AMAD 
 There is still something — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 About him? 
 
 AMAD 
 No; it pertains to business — 
 
 FATMEH (incoherently) 
 Business! — 
 
 AMAD 
 Important business! 
 
 AMAD (not noticing) 
 But he would have none of it, for- 
 got those nice courtesies which men 
 of noble station and character should 
 have in mind even under the most 
 trying circumstances. He comes, how- 
 ever, from a new country, a young 
 country, where manners, perhaps, are 
 rather crude. "Be off, before I change 
 my mind!" he said roughly. I would 
 have parted otherwise — 
 
 FITZGERALD (curtly) 
 But you went? 
 
 AMAD 
 I rode away. The camel died, but — 
 Allah be praised! — not before it put 
 
 FATMEH 
 Go — please — or — (looks at Fitzger- 
 ald) 
 
 FITZGERALD (to Amad) 
 Come. We will converse apart. 
 
 AMAD (bowing ceremoniously to 
 
 Fatnieh) 
 Peace be unto you! 
 
 FATMEH (sudden hysterical laughter) 
 Oh! Oh! (exit Fitzgerald and Amad) 
 
 FATMEH (goes to window and looks 
 ■ out. then comes down stage) 
 The caravans! There was to be an- 
 other in to-day. (rings bell) 
 
50 
 
 Enter servant 
 
 FATMEH (to servant) 
 Go the caravansary and see if there 
 are any new camelmen there now? 
 
 SERVANT 
 A number of them have come in. 
 The boy from the market just told me. 
 
 FATMEH 
 Bring their sheik here, (pausing) 
 No; I will go myself, (exits quickly) 
 
 SERVANT 
 It is always so. She goes hopefully, 
 and returns — (makes gesture of des- 
 pair) 
 
 Enter Fitzgerald followed by Amad. 
 
 FITZGERALD (looking toward desk) 
 Here we shall find paper and ink. 
 You will sign that? 
 
 AMAD 
 
 It was. 
 
 AMAD 
 
 I am willing. 
 
 FITZGERALD (to servant) 
 Your mistress has gone out? 
 
 SERVANT 
 To the caravansary, (exit servant) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 In these matters it is well to be busi- 
 ness-like. 
 
 FITZGERALD (still loriting) 
 You mean now? — 
 
 AMAD 
 Have I not spoken? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 And she? This young girl is as 
 nothing to you now? You have no 
 regrets? 
 
 AMAD 
 No woman should be as a consum- 
 ing flame. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 That, too, came over you in the 
 vision? 
 
 AMAD 
 It did. I saw myself. Or, I saw I 
 was not myself. No man is himself 
 who is— 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 In love? 
 
 AMAD 
 Exactly. Love is a disease. A man 
 who has it, is ill. Now I am well. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 You look it. 
 
 AMAD (calmly) 
 A Mohammedan's word is as good 
 as his bond. 
 
 FITZGERALD (ivriting) 
 So you were commanded to tell 
 this— 
 
 AMAD 
 In a vision. One never dares dis- 
 obey a voice in the wilderness. 
 
 FITZGERALD (writing) 
 Divine injunction, eh? Yes, I know 
 your people frequently have visions. 
 There's a water-pipe. 
 
 Servant enters, brings coal for pipe 
 and goes out. Amad smokes placidly. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 The girl — Fatmeh has never known 
 anything of this? 
 
 AMAD 
 
 It was Light of Life's secret. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 And yours! 
 
 I am tranquil. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 You appear so. 
 
 AMAD 
 I see life once more as it should be. 
 A Muslim should have many wives. 
 Each in turn should share his favor. 
 It is hot equitable to prefer one too 
 greatly. 
 
 FITZGERALD (still ivriting) 
 Too great honor! 
 
 AMAD 
 
 Exactly! Besides, (impressively) 
 disorganizing a man's household, a 
 too passionate regard for one woman 
 is displeasing to Allah! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Indeed? Why? 
 
 AMAD 
 Love for Allah should take prece- 
 dence over all. This came over me. A 
 
woman what is she? Like one of these 
 bubbles in this bottle! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Apt comparison! 
 
 AMAD (spreading out his arms) 
 
 While Allah is all. Allah is the 
 bubble, the bottle, the air, everything. 
 (His voire beeomes rapt.) Y'ammee! 
 Ashmakee! (ehanting) 
 
 "The Beloved of my heart, Allah 
 visited me in the night. 
 
 I stood to show him honor — " 
 
 FITZGERALD (aside, still biisy at 
 
 desk) 
 Ah, the Arab Solomon's Song! The 
 Song of Songs! 
 
 AMAD (half-intoning) 
 "Hast thou come at midnight and 
 not feared the watchman? 
 I feared, but love has taken my soul 
 
 and breath." 
 Love for Allah! 
 
 FITZGERALD (putting doivn pen and 
 turning) 
 Sign here. 
 
 AMAD (rising and crossing to the 
 
 desk) 
 There? It is done. I have obeyed 
 the voice in the vision. Peace! (He 
 bows and exits, with grand manner.) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 If all evil doers only had visions! 
 Still it was as well to get his name to 
 the story. The effects of a vision may 
 wear off. A man may repent of re- 
 pentance, (rises) Small wonder Amad 
 and Light of Life plotted for the girl! 
 Where Amad made a fatal mistake was 
 not to have continued in the paternal 
 role. He should have let ambition and 
 avarice suffice, at his age. (Pauses) 
 What a secret! How will she take it? 
 
 Perhaps when she gets over this young 
 American's death? — (thoughtfully) 
 They say time assuages every grief. 
 The girl is beautiful. One can not be 
 long with her without — (suddenlij he 
 laughs) By Jove! Is villainy catch- 
 ing? (straightens) Too bad our 
 young American friend should never 
 have learned the real story of his left- 
 hand bride! — 
 
 VOICE OF DERVISH (below in the 
 street) 
 Draw near, all followers of the 
 prophet and lovers of a good tale! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Eh? (looking over balcony to scene 
 beneath) 
 
 DERVISH (below, unseen) 
 Never had Aboo-Zeydee a better 
 story to tell! 
 
 Fitzgerald goes to bell hastily and 
 rings. 
 
 DERVISH (below) 
 This one concerns a war-like hero — 
 
 Enter servant. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Go down there and bring up that 
 romance-reciter from the street, (ser- 
 vant exits) 
 
 FITZGERALD (looking doivn from 
 
 balcony) 
 It is— 
 
 DERVISH (below) 
 Draw near! — draw near! (murmur 
 of voices) 
 
 FITZGERALD (still looking down) 
 The servant speaks with him. The 
 crowd expostulates. But he comes — 
 (turns from balcony, closing window 
 after him.) 
 
 Enter Dervish. He wears Mohamme- 
 dan costume but does not have beard. 
 He seems weak and uncertain, and dis- 
 plays evidence of light-headedness. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 I\Iy dear chap! 
 
 Fitzgerald! 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 So you did manage to pull it off, to 
 get here? 
 
 DERVISH 
 
 Yes. (quickly) She is safe? 
 
 Safe. 
 
 And well? 
 
 Except — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 DERVISH 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 DERVISH (hastily) 
 Except? 
 
 FITZGERALD (laughing) 
 She has been somewhat solicitous 
 concerning the fate of a certain Aboo- 
 Zeydee, late her lord and master! 
 
52 
 
 DERVISH (quickly) 
 She seemed, then, to care? (aside) 
 I had a mad dream she cared for me. 
 But now I know it tvas a dream, a 
 fever of the brain. What absurd fan- 
 cies come to a man in the desert! (to 
 Fitzgerald) I told you she was my 
 wife. But it was only a Mohammedan 
 wedding of convenience. I was a 
 make-shift husband. Ha! ha! (laugh- 
 ing derisively) An heroic role, eh, old 
 chap? 
 
 FITZGERALD (smiling) 
 Rather! With the few embellish- 
 ments you infused in the part! She 
 knows how you gave up your camel to 
 Amad, and when nothing was heard of 
 you, she has been led to expect you 
 paid for your wholly inexcusable mag- 
 nanimity with — 
 
 DERVISH 
 She knows about the camel and 
 Amad?— Then he?— 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Has been here? Yes. 
 
 DERVISH (fiercely) 
 He has again found her. And I 
 (bitterly) gave him the means. He 
 has dared seek her and — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Annoy her? No. On the contrary! 
 But where have you been? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Hades! Water gave out. I, too! 
 Only the sun kept on boiling, blazing, 
 blistering. Bowled me over near a 
 lot of bones — a camel's and a man's. 
 Wondered if the unfortunate devil had 
 been parboiled, and sizzled and griz- 
 zled the way I was. Poor chap! Think 
 I went crazy. Tried to laugh, but it 
 hurt — how it hurt! Throat was like 
 dust — dry as a mummy's. Managed to 
 get up once or twice. Ridiculous! 
 Shadow just wobbled around! Looked 
 like a drunken shadow. No wonder 
 the birds laughed. Did you ever hear 
 the birds laugh? I have. It's like 
 lifting the lid off something — the in- 
 fernal place, I guess. Well, that 
 shadow wobbled some more, and then 
 gave it up. The universe looked so 
 big! The sands seemed never to get 
 tired bumping against the edge of the 
 sky. It seemed so absurd and hope- 
 less to keep on wobbling. So I went 
 to sleep and dreamed I was a fly that 
 had strayed into a kitchen stove and 
 someone had shut the door, (pause) 
 When I came to, found myself in a 
 
 Persian camp. Host was a sun-wor- 
 shipper. That seemed funny, too. But 
 he gave me the first water I ever drank 
 and let me forage with the dogs. 
 Pretty well done up, should like to 
 have stayed longer with him, but had 
 to go on, to get to the coast. Time 
 limit to our wager, you know. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Never mind that. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Got to. Must think of her. Fool to 
 throw away a fortune. She is, most 
 likely, penniless. 
 
 FITZGERALD (peculiar look) 
 Is she? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Going to take a pilgrim's ship in a 
 few days. Then for home. Win out 
 yet. Send her the ten thousand 
 pounds. That'll help some. You're to 
 let her think it's some of her own 
 estates, you've dug up. Her father 
 had an orange plantation or some- 
 thing. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Why not let her know it's from you? 
 
 DERVISH 
 She wouldn't take it. I'm only a — 
 a substitute husband. Just married 
 her so as to unmarry her. She under- 
 stands. Now she's safe from Amad, 
 I've got to pronounce that triple di- 
 vorce—set her free. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Do you want to do that? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Isn't a question of "want." Only 
 what's right and square. 
 
 FITZGERALD (chaffing tone) 
 Even if you learned she has turned 
 out to be far from the penniless young 
 person you fancied her? 
 
 DERVISH (eagerly) 
 She will have enough to live on, 
 then? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Enough and to spare! She can live 
 on Park Lane, London; near the Bois, 
 Paris; or on Fifth Avenue, New York. 
 Also, she will be "received," as the 
 world calls it, anywhere. Your own 
 countrymen, or women, will vie (laugh- 
 ing) with one another in adding her 
 to their list of eligibles. In fact, a 
 
53 
 
 professional mustahall, or substitute 
 husband, would think twice before vol- 
 untarily giving up such a wife — espe- 
 cially after having placed her under 
 some slight (accent) obligation to him. 
 
 DERVISH (quickly) 
 That's just it. (feverish, over-confi- 
 dential manner) You see, she might 
 from a sense of gratitude — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Let the marriage stand? 
 
 DERVISH 
 You've hit it. Not that I've done 
 much! Only, don't you see, women 
 may exaggerate these things. There's 
 great danger of that, (over-confident- 
 ially) And it wouldn't be straight for 
 me to allow her to marry me, or re- 
 marry, (with a constrained laugh) for 
 any such reason as that. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Not if she loves you? 
 
 DERVISH (lifting hand) 
 Don't! I know the difference be- 
 tween desert dreams and reality now. 
 
 FITZGERALD (dryly) 
 Well, it isn't everyone who would 
 resign the daughter of an English 
 viscount. 
 
 DERVISH 
 What are you talking about? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Her father was no more Mohamme- 
 dan than you. 
 
 DERVISH (reproachfully) 
 Trying to usurp my job of romance- 
 reciter? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 Truth is stranger than fiction. 
 
 DERVISH (false mirth) 
 Ha! ha! What I always say. Go 
 on, old chap. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Amad and Light of Life combined 
 a great deal of worldly calculation in 
 this young lady's first marriage. Light 
 of Life had secret evidence of her 
 real parentage. This information she 
 laid before Amad, and together they 
 entered into a little business arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 DERVISH (disapprovingly) 
 You'll have to do better than that! 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Wait! Your wife's mother was a 
 lady of unimpeachable family who 
 lived in the little principality of Mon- 
 atania, bordering on the domains of 
 the sick man of Europe. Her father 
 was a wealthy viscount, not unknown 
 to me personally. Like Byron he took 
 a great deal of interest in the politics 
 of Greece, but, occasionally, business 
 called him home — to England. During 
 such an absence, the Turks, half-brig- 
 ands, half-soldiers, made one of their 
 periodical descents on the bordering 
 principality. They looted, pillaged and 
 killed. The mother, among the few 
 spared, doubtless on account of her 
 beauty, was carried off by the brutal 
 ravagers. 
 
 DERVISH (shaking head) 
 Commonplace! Commonplace! Lacks 
 invention, my dear chap! 
 
 FITZGERALD (tolerantly) 
 True; it does sound commonplace. 
 The Turks are always doing that — 
 carrying off someone. However, be 
 that as it may, the viscount offered a 
 great reward, and, doubtless, would 
 have recovered his wife, had not cer- 
 tain Greek troops, frenzied by these 
 atrocities, sought to avenge their 
 wrongs at the point of the sword. Some 
 of the brigands were cut to pieces; 
 others fled. The mother was reported 
 dead. 
 
 DERVISH (patronizingly) 
 That's better! That's the way to 
 hold your audience. You're improving. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 As a matter of fact, the mother was 
 not slain but carried to a fanatical 
 Muslim center, where, thereafter she 
 was lost to her own world. Such things 
 have happened. 
 
 DERVISH (chuckling) 
 They have. Tum! tum! tum! (makes 
 as if playing on a kanoon) How like 
 you the tale, good people? I beg your 
 pardon, old chap. Go on. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Shortly after her captivity, the 
 mother gave birth to a child. Later, to 
 avoid being sold into slavery, the 
 mother became the Mohammedan wife 
 of a Musalman. The child, by the 
 English father, was placed in a mis- 
 sion when the mother died. Her story 
 was not revealed. The Mohammedan 
 husband took for his second wife — 
 Light of Life. This woman, learning 
 
54 
 
 by some means of the child's ancestry 
 and that there were large possessions 
 in England to which she is legal heir- 
 ess, entered into a compact to marry 
 her to Amad. They expected to get 
 possession of the girl's money. For- 
 tunately about this time you came 
 along. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Like the hero in a popular novel! 
 Excellent! Bravo! (applauds ivith his 
 hands) Vast possessions! The daugh- 
 ter of a viscount! Not at all bad, old 
 chap! Of course, it's a joke. Your 
 English idea of humor. Ha! ha! But 
 you can't get the laugh on me. Think 
 I'm like the gaping rabble who drink 
 in all the silly tales about genii, or 
 princesses, or daughters of Emirs or 
 viscounts, and all that sort of thing? 
 
 FITZGERALD (looking at him keenly) 
 The tale, then, does not sound plaus- 
 ible? 
 
 DERVISH 
 All good tales do. (jeeringly) Why, 
 I make mine sometimes seem as real. 
 You did very well. Almost in the ro- 
 mance-reciter's class, yourself. 
 
 FITZGERALD (humoring him.) 
 Say no more about it. What's more 
 to the point, you had better lie down 
 and rest. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Rest? That sounds like a joke, too. 
 Lots to do before I can do that. Where 
 is she? She is well? Asked you that 
 before, (passes hand over forehead) 
 Must be off. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 Sit down. 
 
 regards dervish) At once. You know 
 where to find — the person? 
 
 SERVANT 
 
 I think so. (Exit servant) 
 
 FITZGERALD (to dervish) 
 A little business. One must always 
 attend to business, you know, even — 
 
 DERVISH (rising) 
 I am interrupting — 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 On the contrary! Nothing to do 
 now, except to order for you, what 
 you Americans call a square meal. 
 
 DERVISH 
 No you won't. Can't accept. Wager, 
 you know. 
 
 FITZGERALD (aside) 
 That confounded wager! (aloud) 
 But, old chap, you're got to. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Won't. Besides, I've a piaster or 
 two in my pocket. Enough for one of 
 the native dishes. Jolly messes, 
 those! Hunger's the best sauce. Don't 
 I know? Why, I've eaten old goat 
 that was a dish for the gods. But I 
 really mustn't take up any more of 
 your time. How did you say she was? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Well. You're not going to see her 
 before you go? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Better not. Look at these rags. 
 (laughs) More appropriate for a pil- 
 grims' ship than in a lady's boudoir. 
 
 DERVISH (loavering weakly) 
 A moment, perhaps — no longer — 
 
 (sits) 
 
 FITZGERALD (going to desk) 
 Excuse me an instant, (writes and 
 reads as he does so) "He whom you 
 seek, is here. He is well, only light- 
 headed. A touch of desert fever. He 
 is bound to leave at once, (touches 
 bell. Dervish starts, relaxes into ab- 
 straction again) on a pilgrim ship. If 
 he does, I will not answer for the con- 
 sequences." (seals paper) 
 
 Enter servant. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Well, you were once two vagabonds, 
 together. 
 
 Or longer. 
 
 DERVISH 
 A thousand years ago. 
 (going) 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Better wait! 
 
 DERVISH 
 Can't! See you again after — in New 
 York — if I get there. Appreciate all 
 you've done for her. Let me see? You 
 said Amad was here? What for? 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Take this to — the person to whom it 
 is addressed. (Servant looks, starts. 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 Never mind, now. You might think 
 was romancing again. Only, do you 
 
55 
 
 know, it was lucky you did give up 
 your camel to Amad. 
 
 DERVISH 
 Was tempted not to. After he re- 
 covered, I even started to ride away. 
 "Leave him there." "Give him half 
 the water." "That's enough for him." 
 "If he perishes, it is the will of Allah 
 and through no fault of yours." "She 
 will, then, be rid of him forever." 
 Those were the voices I heard. But I 
 rode back. Thank God! I rode back. 
 He is an old man. I think it was the 
 white of his beard suddenly held me. 
 It seemed like a white flag against the 
 pitiless yellow sands. Gad! How my 
 head swims! That cursed sun gets 
 into your brain. It burns and it bores. 
 Bores! That's the word. Makes you 
 feel as if someone has an auger and 
 is engaged in a little carpentering 
 work, with your head for a board. I'll 
 go somewhere, I guess, and lie down. 
 So long! Give her my regards! My 
 best, you understand? (stares before 
 him; steps toward door; stops; sivays 
 to and fro. The door opens.) 
 
 Enter Fatmeh. 
 
 FATMEH (agitated) 
 I met the servant with your note — 
 (suddenly starts. She sees dervish, 
 gives a cry) 
 
 DERVISH 
 Fatmeh! (He starts impulsively to- 
 wards her; stops.) No, no! The di- 
 vorce! Yes, that's what I came for. 
 (He steps toxcard Fitzgerald; assumes 
 joeular manner.) You be the witness, 
 old chap. Quite sufficient; it will do. 
 It will he binding. Or rather, unbind- 
 ing, (to Fatmeh) You are no longer 
 my wife. (Fatmeh shrinks) I say it 
 once. You heard me, Fitzgerald? Didn't 
 think it would be so hard to do it 
 when El Sabbagh asked me to marry 
 her that evening in the court of the 
 mosque. Seemed like a joke, then. 
 Not that's it's so very serious now, of 
 course, (forced jocularity, then to Fat- 
 meh) You are no longer — 
 
 FATMEH (putting out arms) 
 No, no! 
 
 DERVISH 
 — my wife. That's tivice. Fitzger- 
 old. Constitutes the lesser separation, 
 which is easily repaired. But the 
 greater? — the one for all time, for- 
 ever! — think of it! — the total and com- 
 plete divorce, that's what's coming 
 next. Had to keep her a little while 
 
 on account of Amad. But now she's 
 in a Christian zone, she's got to be 
 free! To be rid of a make-believe hus- 
 band; a make-believe man! That's 
 what she called me. Let me see? How 
 many times did I say it? Twice? Yes; 
 twice. Three times and out, according 
 to the laws under which we were made 
 one! (to Fatmeh) I divorce — set you 
 free! You are no longer my wife! 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Oh! Oh! 
 
 DERVISH 
 There! it's done! (laughs) And 
 now, goodbye! See you in old Man- 
 hattan town, Fitzgerald, old man. (to 
 Fatmeh) Never see you again! Glad 
 everything's turned out so well — • Your 
 future, I mean. 
 
 FATMEH (hardly able to speak) 
 So well? 
 
 DERVISH (light icave of the hand) 
 Good-bye! (aside, passionately ) How 
 beautiful she is! (aloud, lightly) Good- 
 bye! (starts for door; suddenly lurches 
 and falls. Fatmeh, loith a cry, springs 
 forward, drops to the floor and takes 
 his head in her arms.) 
 
 FITZGERALD (looking toward her, 
 aside) 
 I don't believe there's any doulst 
 about his getting well now. (He steps 
 to desk, takes paper Amad has signed 
 from pocket and places it on desk. 
 Aside) She can read this document of 
 Amad's at her leisure. 
 
 DERVISH (arousing himself) 
 Fatmeh! Beloved! 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes, yes! (to Fitzgerald) The doc- 
 tor! 
 
 FITZGERALD (going) 
 The missionary is both doctor and — 
 pastor. Do you want himf 
 
 FATMEH (not noticing significance of 
 question) 
 Yes, yes! 
 
 DERVISH (arousing himself again) 
 Fatmeh! You here? (ivonderingly) 
 And with youi* arms around me? 
 
 FATMEH 
 Why not? 
 
 DERVISH 
 Then it is real that — 
 
NOV 29 1911 
 
 56 
 
 FATMEH 
 Yes. 
 
 I love you? 
 
 FITZGERALD (at door to Fatmeh) 
 Shall I tell the missionary he will be 
 expected to act in both capacities? 
 
 FATMEH 
 
 Yes, yes! 
 
 (not catching words) 
 
 \ 
 
 FITZGERALD (laughing) 
 Good! After a Mohammedan di- 
 vorce what could be more appropriate 
 than a Christian wedding! (exits) 
 
 ^ 
 
 -SLOW CURTAIN 
 
 Lb Mr '12